[See  pane  182 
THE   JAGUAR    OPENED    HIS   JAWS   THREATENINGLY 


KEN  WARD 
IN  THE  JUNGLE 


BY 

ZANE  GREY 


AUTHOR  OF 

THE  YOUNG  FORESTER, 
THE  YOUNG  PITCHER, 
THE  YOUNG  LION  HUNTER, 
THE  U.  P.  TRAIL,  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW    YORK 

GROSSET    &    DUNLAP 
PUBLISHERS 


Published  by  Arrangement  with   Harper  &   Brother* 
Made  in  the  United  State*  of  America 


OOPYW1GHT.    I»I2.    m*   HARPER   •    BROTHERS 
WANTED  IN  THE  UNITCO  «TATE»  OF  AMERICA 


B  Z 


CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PACK 

I.  THE  PRIZE i 

II.  THE  HOME  OF  THE  TARPON 13 

III.  AN  INDIAN  BOATMAN 24 

IV.  AT  THE  JUNGLE  RIVER 33 

V.  THE  FIRST  CAMP 43 

VI.  WILDERNESS  LIFE 53 

VII.  RUNNING  THE  RAPIDS 69 

VIII.  THE  FIRST  TIGER-CAT 85 

IX.  IN  THE  WHITE  WATER 98 

X.  LOST! 115 

XI.  AN  ARMY  OF  SNAKES 127 

XII.  CATCHING  STRANGE  FISH 143 

XIII.  A  TURKEY-HUNT 159 

XIV.  A  FIGHT  WITH  A  JAGUAR 174 

XV.  THE  Vicious  GARRAPATOES 187 

XVI.  FIELD  WORK  OF  A  NATURALIST 194 

XVII.  A  MIXED-UP  TIGER-HUNT 202 

XVIII.  WATCHING  A  RUNWAY 215 

XIX.  ADVENTURES  WITH  CROCODILES 226 

XX.  TREED  BY  WILD  PIGS 245 

XXI.  THE  LEAPING  TARPON 258 

XXII.  STRICKEN  DOWN      ...........  275 

XXIII.  OUT  OF  THE  JUNGLE    ..........  294 


644494 


KEN   WARD    IN    THE    JUNGLE 


KEN    WARD    IN    THE 
JUNGLE 


THE  PRIZE 

"\A7HAT    a    change    from    the    Arizona 

VV   desert!" 

The  words  broke  from  the  lips  of  Ken 
Ward  as  he  leaned  from  the  window  of 
the  train  which  was  bearing  his  brother 
and  himself  over  the  plateau  to  Tampico 
in  Tamaulipas,  the  southeastern  state  of 
Mexico.  He  had  caught  sight  of  a  river 
leaping  out  between  heavily  wooded  slopes 
and  plunging  down  in  the  most  beautiful 
waterfall  he  had  ever  seen. 

"Look,  Hal,"  he  cried. 

The  first  fall  was  a  long  white  streak, 
ending  in  a  dark  pool;  below  came  cascade 
after  cascade,  fall  after  fall,  some  wide, 


KEN    WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

others  narrow,  and  all  white  and  green  against 
the  yellow  rock.  Then  the  train  curved 
round  a  spur  of  the  mountain,  descended  to 
a  level,  to  be  lost  in  a  luxuriance  of  jungle 
growth. 

It  was  indeed  a  change  for  Ken  Ward,, 
young  forester,  pitcher  of  the  varsity  nine  at 
school,  and  hunter  of  lions  in  the  Arizona 
canons.  Here  he  was  entering  the  jungle 
of  the  tropics.  The  rifles  and  the  camp  out- 
fit on  the  seat  beside  his  brother  Hal  and 
himself  spoke  of  coming  adventures.  Before 
them  lay  an  unknown  wilderness — the  semi- 
tropical  jungle.  And  the  future  was  to  show 
that  the  mystery  of  the  jungle  was  stranger 
even  than  their  imaginings. 

It  was  not  love  of  adventure  alone  or  in- 
terest in  the  strange  new  forest  growths  that 
had  drawn  Ken  to  the  jungle.  His  uncle, 
the  one  who  had  gotten  Ken  letters  from  the 
Forestry  Department  at  Washington,  had 
been  proud  of  Ken's  Arizona  achievements. 
This  uncle  was  a  member  of  the  American 
Geographical  Society  and  a  fellow  of  the  New 
York  Museum  of  Natural  History.  He  wanted 
Ken  to  try  his  hand  at  field  work  in  the  jungle 
of  Mexico,  and  if  that  was  successful,  then  to 
explore  the  ruined  cities  of  wild  Yucatan. 
If  Ken  made  good  as  an  explorer  his  reward 


THE    PRIZE 

was  to  be  a  trip  to  Equatorial  Africa  after  big 
game.  And  of  course  that  trip  meant  oppor- 
tunity to  see  England  and  France,  and,  what 
meant  more  to  Ken,  a  chance  to  see  the  great 
forests  of  Germany,  where  forestry  had  been 
carried  on  for  three  hundred  years. 

In  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  inducement 
was  irresistible,  and  that  Ken's  father  was  as 
proud  and  eager  as  Ken's  uncle  to  have  him 
make  a  name  for  himself,  and  that  Hal 
would  be  allowed  to  go  with  him,  Ken  had 
hesitated.  There  was  the  responsibility  for 
Hal  and  the  absolute  certainty  that  Hal 
could  not  keep  out  of  mischief.  Still  Ken 
simply  could  not  have  gone  to  Mexico  leav- 
ing his  brother  at  home  broken-hearted. 

At  last  the  thing  had  been  decided.  It  was 
Hal's  ambition  to  be  a  naturalist  and  to  col- 
lect specimens,  and  the  uncle  had  held  out 
possible  recognition  from  the  Smithsonian 
Institution  at  Washington.  Perhaps  he  might 
find  a  new  variety  of  some  animal  to  which 
the  scientists  would  attach  his  name.  Then 
the  lad  was  passionately  eager  to  see  Ken 
win  that  trip  to  Africa.  There  had  been 
much  study  of  maps  and  books  of  travel, 
science,  and  natural  history.  There  had 
been  the  most  careful  instruction  and  equip- 
ment for  semi-tropical  camp  life.  The  uncle 

3 


KEN  WARD    IN    THE   JUNGLE 

had  given  Ken  valuable  lessons  in  map- 
drawing,  in  estimating  distance  and  topog- 
raphy, and  he  had  indicated  any  one  of 
several  rivers  in  the  jungle  belt  of  Mexico. 
Traversing  one  hundred  miles  of  unknown 
jungle  river,  with  intelligent  observation  and 
accurate  reports,  would  win  the  prize  for  Ken 
Ward.  Now  the  race  was  on.  Would  Ken 
win? 

Presently  the  train  crossed  a  bridge.  Ken 
Ward  had  a  brief  glance  at  clear  green  water, 
at  great  cypress-trees,  gray  and  graceful 
with  long,  silvery,  waving  moss,  and  at  the 
tangled,  colorful  banks.  A  water-fowl  black 
as  coal,  with  white-crested  wings,  skimmed  the 
water  in  swift  wild  flight,  to  disappear  up  the 
shady  river-lane.  Then  the  train  clattered 
on,  and,  a  mile  or  more  beyond  the  bridge, 
stopped  at  a  station  called  Valles.  In  the 
distance  could  be  seen  the  thatched  palm- 
leaf  huts  and  red-tiled  roofs  of  a  hamlet. 

The  boys  got  out  to  stretch  their  legs.  The 
warm,  sweet,  balmy  air  was  a  new  and  novel 
thing  to  them.  They  strolled  up  and  down 
the  gravel  walk,  watching  the  natives.  Hal 
said  he  rather  liked  the  looks  of  their  brown 
bare  feet  and  the  thin  cotton  trousers  and 
shirts,  but  he  fancied  the  enormous  sombreros 
were  too  heavy  and  unwieldy.  Ken  spoke 

4 


THE    PRIZE 

to  several  pleasant-faced  Mexicans,  each  of 
whom  replied:  "No  sabe,  Senor." 

The  ticket  agent  at  the  station  was  an 
American,  and  from  the  way  he  smiled  and 
spoke  Ken  knew  he  was  more  than  glad  to 
see  one  of  his  own  kind.  So,  after  Ken  had 
replied  to  many  questions  about  the  States, 
he  began  to  ask  some  of  his  own. 

"What's  the  name  of  the  waterfall  we 
passed?" 

"Micas  Falls,"  replied  the  agent. 

"And  the  river?" 

"It's  called  the  Santa  Rosa." 

"Where  does  it  go?" 

The  agent  did  not  know,  except  that  it 
disappeared  in  the  jungle.  Southward  the 
country  was  wild.  The  villages  were  few  and 
all  along  the  railroad;  and  at  Valles  the  river 
swung  away  to  the  southwest. 

"But  it  must  flow  into  the  Panuco  River," 
said  Ken.  He  had  studied  maps  of  Mexico 
and  had  learned  all  that  it  was  possible  to 
learn  before  he  undertook  the  journey. 

"Why,  yes,  it  must  find  the  Panuco  some- 
where down  over  the  mountain,"  answered 
the  agent. 

"Then  there  are  rapids  in  this  little  river?" 
asked  Ken,  in  growing  interest. 

"Well,  I  guess.    It's  all  rapids." 
5 


KEN  WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

"How  far  to  Tampico  by  rail?"  went  on 
Ken. 

"Something  over  a  hundred  miles." 

"Any  game  in  the  jungle  hereabouts — 
or  along  the  Santa  Rosa?"  continued  Ken. 

The  man  laughed,  and  laughed  in  such  a 
way  that  Ken  did  not  need  his  assertion 
that  it  was  not  safe  to  go  into  the  jungle. 

Whereupon  Ken  Ward  became  so  thought- 
ful that  he  did  not  hear  the  talk  that  followed 
between  the  agent  and  Hal.  The  engine 
bell  roused  him  into  action,  and  with  Hal 
he  hurried  back  to  their  seats.  And  then 
the  train  sped  on.  But  the  beauty  of  Micas 
Falls  and  the  wildness  of  the  Santa  Rosa 
remained  with  Ken.  Where  did  that  river 
go?  How  many  waterfalls  and  rapids  did 
it  have?  What  teeming  life  must  be  along 
its  rich  banks !  It  haunted  Ken.  He  wanted 
to  learn  the  mystery  of  the  jungle.  There 
was  the  same  longing  which  had  gotten  him 
into  the  wild  adventures  in  Penetier  Forest  and 
the  Grand  Canon  country  of  Arizona.  And 
all  at  once  flashed  over  him  the  thought  that 
here  was  the  jungle  river  for  him  to  explore. 

"Why,  that's  the  very  thing,"  he  said, 
thinking  aloud. 

"What's  wrong  with  you,"  asked  Hal, 
"talking  to  yourself  that  way?" 

6 


THE   PRIZE 

Ken  did  not  explain.  The  train  clattered 
between  green  walls  of  jungle,  and  occasionally 
stopped  at  a  station.  But  the  thought  of  the 
jungle  haunted  him  until  the  train  arrived  at 
Tampico. 

Ken  had  the  name  of  an  American  hotel, 
and  that  was  all  he  knew  about  Tampico. 
The  station  was  crowded  with  natives.  Man 
after  man  accosted  the  boys,  jabbering  ex- 
citedly in  Mexican.  Some  of  these  showed 
brass  badges  bearing  a  number  and  the 
word  Cargodore. 

"Hal,  I  believe  these  fellows  are  porters 
or  baggage-men,"  said  Ken.  And  he  showed 
his  trunk  check  to  one  of  them.  The  fellow 
jerked  it  out  of  Ken's  hand  and  ran  off. 
The  boys  ran  after  him.  They  were  relieved 
to  see  him  enter  a  shed  full  of  baggage.  And 
they  were  amazed  to  see  him  kneel  down  and 
take  their  trunk  on  his  back.  It  was  a  big 
trunk  and  heavy.  The  man  was  small  and  light. 

"It  '11  smash  him!"  cried  Hal. 

But  the  little  cargodore  walked  off  with  the 
trunk  on  his  back.  Then  Ken  and  Hal  saw 
other  cargodores  packing  trunks.  The  boys 
kept  close  to  their  man  and  used  their  eyes 
with  exceeding  interest.  The  sun  was  set- 
ting, and  the  square,  colored  buildings  looked 
as  if  they  were  in  a  picture  of  Spain. 
2  7 


KEN  WARD   IN   THE  JUNGLE 

"Look  at  the  boats — canoes!"  cried  Hal, 
as  they  crossed  a  canal. 

Ken  saw  long  narrow  canoes  that  had  been 
hollowed  out  from  straight  tree-trunks.  They 
were  of  every  size,  and  some  of  the  paddles 
were  enormous.  Crowds  of  natives  were 
jabbering  and  jostling  each  other  at  a  rude 
wharf. 

"Look  back,"  called  Hal,  who  seemed  to 
have  a  hundred  eyes. 

Ken  saw  a  wide,  beautiful  river,  shining 
red  in  the  sunset.  Palm-trees  on  the  distant 
shore  showed  black  against  the  horizon. 

"Hal,  that's  the  Panuco.     What  a  river!" 

"Makes  the  Susquehanna  look  like  a  creek," 
was  Hal's  comment. 

The  cargodore  led  the  boys  through  a  plaza, 
down  a  narrow  street  to  the  hotel.  Here 
they  were  made  to  feel  at  home.  The  pro- 
prietor was  a  kindly  American.  The  hotel 
was  crowded,  and  many  of  the  guests  were 
Englishmen  there  for  the  tarpon-fishing,  with 
sportsmen  from  the  States,  and  settlers  com- 
ing in  to  take  up  new  lands.  It  was  pleasant 
for  Ken  and  Hal  to  hear  their  own  language 
once  more.  After  dinner  they  sallied  forth 
to  see  the  town.  But  the  narrow  dark  streets 
and  the  blanketed  natives  stealing  silently 
along  were  not  particularly  inviting.  The 

8 


THE    PRIZE 

boys  got  no  farther  than  the  plaza,  where 
they  sat  down  on  a  bench.  It  was  wholly 
different  from  any  American  town.  Ken 
suspected  that  Hal  was  getting  homesick, 
for  the  boy  was  quiet  and  inactive. 

"I  don't  like  this  place,"  said  Hal.  "What 
'd  you  ever  want  to  drag  me  way  down  here 
for?" 

"Humph!  drag  you?  Say,  you  pestered 
the  life  out  of  me,  and  bothered  Dad  till  he 
was  mad,  and  worried  mother  sick  to  let 
you  come  on  this  trip." 

Hal  hung  his  head. 

"Now,  you're  not  going  to  show  a  streak  of 
yellow?"  asked  Ken.  He  knew  how  to  stir 
his  brother. 

Hal  rose  to  the  attack  and  scornfully  re- 
pudiated the  insinuation.  Ken  replied  that 
they  were  in  a  new  country  and  must  not 
reach  conclusions  too  hastily. 

"I  liked  it  back  up  there  at  the  little  village 
where  we  saw  the  green  river  and  the  big 
trees  with  the  gray  streamers  on  them," 
said  Hal. 

"Well,  I  liked  that  myself,"  rejoined  Ken. 
"I'd  like  to  go  back  there  and  put  a 
boat  in  the  river  and  come  all  the  way 
here." 

Ken  had  almost  unconsciously  expressed 
9 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

the  thought  that  had  been  forming  in  his 
mind.  Hal  turned  slowly  and  looked  at  his 
brother. 

"Ken,  that  *d  be  great — that's  what  we 
came  for!" 

"I  should  say  so,"  replied  Ken. 
•    "Well?"  asked  Hal,  simply. 

That  question  annoyed  Ken.  Had  he  not 
come  south  to  go  into  the  jungle?  Had  he 
come  with  any  intention  of  shirking  the 
danger  of  a  wild  trip?  There  was  a  subtle 
flattery  in  Hal's  question. 

"That  Santa  Rosa  River  runs  through  the 
jungle,"  went  on  Hal.  "It  flows  into  the 
Panuco  somewhere.  You  know  we  figured 
out  on  the  map  that  the  Panuco' s  the  only 
big  river  in  this  jungle.  That's  all  we  want 
to  know.  And,  Ken,  you  know  you're  a 
born  boatman.  Why,  look  at  the  rapids  we've 
shot  on  the  Susquehanna.  Remember  that 
trip  we  came  down  the  Juniata?  The  water 
was  high,  too.  Ken,  you  can  take  a  boat 
down  that  Santa  Rosa!" 

"By  George!  I  believe  I  can,"  exclaimed 
Ken,  and  he  thrilled  at  the  thought. 

"Ken,  let's  go.  You'll  win  the  prize,  and 
I'll  get  specimens.  Think  what  we'd  have 
to  tell  Jim  Williams  and  Dick  Leslie  when  we 
go  West  next  summer!" 

10 


THE    PRIZE 

"Oh,  Hal,  I  know — but  this  idea  of  a  trip 
seems  too  wild." 

"Maybe  it  wouldn't  be  so  wild." 

In  all  fairness  Ken  could  not  deny  this,  so 
he  kept  silent. 

"Ken,  listen,"  went  on  Hal,  and  now  he 
was  quite  cool.  "If  we'd  promised  the 
Governor  not  to  take  a  wild  trip  I  wouldn't 
say  another  word.  But  we're  absolutely 
free." 

"That's  why  we  ought  to  be  more  careful. 
Dad  trusts  me." 

"He  trusts  you  because  he  knows  you  can 
take  care  of  yourself,  and  me,  too.  You're 
a  wonder,  Ken.  Why,  if  you  once  made  up 
your  mind,  you'd  make  that  Santa  Rosa  River 
look  like  a  canal." 

Ken  began  to  fear  that  he  would  not  be 
proof  against  the  haunting  call  of  that  jungle 
river  and  the  flattering  persuasion  of  his 
brother  and  the  ever-present  ambition  to  show 
his  uncle  what  he  could  do. 

"Hal,  if  I  didn't  have  you  with  me  I'd 
already  have  made  up  my  mind  to  tackle 
this  river." 

That  appeared  to  insult  Hal. 

"All  I've  got  to  say  is  I'd  be  a  help  to  you 
— not  a  drag,"  he  said,  with  some  warmth. 

"You're  always  a  help,  Hal.  I  can't  say 
ii 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

anything  against  your  willingness.  But  you 
know  your  weakness.  By  George!  you  made 
trouble  enough  for  me  in  Arizona.  On  a  trip 
such  as  this  you'd  drive  me  crazy." 

"Ken,  I  won't  make  any  rash  promises. 
I  don't  want  to  queer  myself  with  you. 
But  I'm  all  right." 

"Look  here,  Hal;  let's  wait.  We've  only 
got  to  Tampico.  Maybe  such  a  trip  is  im- 
practicable— impossible.  Let's  find  out  more 
about  the  country." 

Hal  appeared  to  take  this  in  good  spirit. 
The  boys  returned  to  the  hotel  and  went  to 
bed.  Hal  promptly  fell  asleep.  But  Ken 
Ward  lay  awake  a  long  time  thinking  of  the 
green  Santa  Rosa,  with  its  magnificent  moss- 
festooned  cypresses.  And  when  he  did  go  to 
sleep  it  was  to  dream  of  the  beautiful  water- 
fowl with  the  white-crested  wings,  and_he 
was  following  it  on  its  wild  flight  down  the 
dark,  mysterious  river-trail  into  the  jungle. 


n 

THE  HOME  OF  THE  TARPON 

HAL'S    homesickness    might    never    have 
been  in  evidence  at  all,  to  judge  from 
the  way  the  boy,  awakening  at  dawn,  began 
to  talk  about  the  Santa  Rosa  trip. 

"Well,"  said  Ken,  as  he  rolled  out  of  bed, 
"I  guess  we're  in  for  it." 
,    "Ken,  will  we  go?"  asked  Hal,  eagerly. 

"I'm  on  the  fence." 
.    "But  you're  leaning  on  the  jungle  side?" 

"Yes,  kid— I'm  slipping." 

Hal  opened  his  lips  to  let  out  a  regular 
Hiram  Bent  yell,  when  Ken  clapped  a  hand 
over  his  mouth. 

"Hold  on — we're  in  the  hotel  yet." 

It  took  the  brothers  long  to  dress,  because 
they  could  not  keep  away  from  the  window. 
The  sun  was  rising  in  rosy  glory  over  misty 
lagoons.  Clouds  of  creamy  mist  rolled  above 
the  broad  Panuco.  Wild  ducks  were  flying 
low.  The  tiled  roofs  of  the  stone  houses 
gleamed  brightly,  and  the  palm-trees  glistened 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

with  dew.  The  soft  breeze  that  blew  in  was 
warm,  sweet,  and  fragrant. 

After  breakfast  the  boys  went  out  to  the 
front  and  found  the  hotel  lobby  full  of  fisher- 
men and  their  native  boatmen.  It  was  an 
interesting  sight,  as  well  as  a  surprise,  for 
Ken  and  Hal  did  not  know  that  Tampico 
was  as  famous  for  fishing  as  it  was  for  hunt- 
ing. The  huge  rods  and  reels  amazed  them. 

"What  kind  of  fish  do  these  fellows  fish 
for?"  asked  Hal. 

Ken  was  well  enough  acquainted  with 
sport  to  know  something  about  tarpon,  but 
he  had  never  seen  one  of  the  great  silver  fish. 
And  he  was  speechless  when  Hal  led  him 
into  a  room  upon  the  walls  of  which  were 
mounted  specimens  of  tarpon  from  six  to 
seven  feet  in  length  and  half  as  wide  as  a 
door. 

"Say,  Ken!  We've  come  to  the  right 
place.  Those  fishermen  are  all  going  out  to 
fish  for  such  whales  as  these  here." 

"Hal,  we  never  saw  a  big  fish  before,"  said 
Ken.  "And  before  we  leave  Tampico  we'll 
know  what  it  means  to  hook  tarpon." 

"I'm  with  you,"  replied  Hal,  gazing  doubt- 
fully and  wonderingly  at  a  fish  almost  twice 
as  big  as  himself. 

Then  Ken,  being  a  practical  student  of 
14 


THE    HOME    OF   THE  TARPON 

fishing,  as  of  other  kinds  of  sport,  began  to 
stroll  round  the  lobby  with  an  intent  to  learn. 
He  closely  scrutinized  the  tackle.  And  he 
found  that  the  bait  used  was  a  white  mullet 
six  to  ten  inches  long,  a  little  fish  which  re- 
sembled the  chub.  Ken  did  not  like  the  long, 
cruel  gaff  which  seemed  a  necessary  adjunct 
to  each  outfit  of  tackle,  and  he  vowed  that 
in  his  fishing  for  tarpon  he  would  dispense 
with  it. 

Ken  was  not  backward  about  asking  ques- 
tions, and  he  learned  that  Tampico,  during 
the  winter  months,  was  a  rendezvous  for 
sportsmen  from  all  over  the  world.  For  the 
most  part,  they  came  to  catch  the  leaping 
tarpon;  the  shooting  along  the  Panuco,  how- 
ever, was  as  well  worth  while  as  the  fishing. 
But  Ken  could  not  learn  anything  about  the 
Santa  Rosa  River.  The  tierra  caliente,  or  hot 
belt,  along  the  curve  of  the  Gulf  was  inter- 
sected by  small  streams,  many  of  them  un- 
known and  unnamed.  The  Panuco  swung 
round  to  the  west  and  had  its  source  some- 
where up  in  the  mountains.  Ken  decided 
that  the  Santa  Rosa  was  one  of  its  head- 
waters. Valles  lay  up  on  the  first  swell  of 
higher  ground,  and  was  distant  from  Tampico 
some  six  hours  by  train.  So,  reckoning  with 
the  meandering  course  of  jungle  streams, 

15 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

Ken  calculated  he  would  have  something 
like  one  hundred  and  seventy-five  miles  to 
travel  by  water  from  Valles  to  Tampico. 
There  were  Indian  huts  strung  along  the 
Panuco  River,  and  fifty  miles  inland  a  village 
named  Panuco.  What  lay  between  Panuco 
and  Valles,  up  over  the  wild  steppes  of  that 
jungle,  Ken  Ward  could  only  conjecture. 

Presently  he  came  upon  Hal  in  conversa- 
tion with  an  American  boy,  who  at  once 
volunteered  to  show  them  around.  So  they 
set  out,  and  were  soon  becoming  well  ac- 
quainted. Their  guide  said  he  was  from 
Kansas;  had  been  working  in  the  railroad 
offices  for  two  years;  and  was  now  taking  a 
vacation.  His  name  was  George  Ailing.  Un- 
der his  guidance  the  boys  spent  several  in- 
teresting hours  going  about  the  city.  Dur- 
ing this  walk  Hal  showed  his  first  tendency 
to  revert  to  his  natural  bent  of  mind.  Not  for 
long  could  Hal  Ward  exist  without  making 
trouble  for  something.  In  this  case  it  was 
buzzards,  of  which  the  streets  of  Tampico 
were  full.  In  fact,  George  explained,  the 
buzzards  were  the  only  street-cleaning  de- 
partment in  the  town.  They  were  as  tame 
as  tame  turkeys,  and  Hal  could  not  resist 
the  desire  to  chase  them.  And  he  could  be 
made  to  stop  only  after  a  white-helmeted 

16 


THE   HOME   OF  THE    TARPON 

officer  had  threatened  him.  George  ex- 
plained further  that  although  Tampico  had 
no  game-laws  it  protected  these  buzzard- 
scavengers  of  the  streets. 

The  market-house  at  the  canal  wharf  was 
one  place  where  Ken  thought  Hal  would 
forget  himself  in  the  bustle  and  din  and  color. 
All  was  so  strange  and  new.  Indeed,  for  a 
time  Hal  appeared  to  be  absorbed  in  his  sur- 
roundings, but  when  he  came  to  a  stall  where 
a  man  had  parrots  and  racoons  and  small 
deer,  and  three  little  yellow,  black-spotted 
tiger-cats,  as  George  called  them,  then  once 
more  Ken  had  to  take  Hal  in  tow.  Outside 
along  the  wharf  were  moored  a  hundred  or 
more  canoes  of  manifold  variety.  All  had 
been  hewn  from  solid  tree-trunks.  Some 
were  long,  slender,  graceful,  pretty  to  look 
at,  and  easy  to  handle  in  shallow  lagoons, 
but  Ken  thought  them  too  heavy  and  cum- 
bersome for  fast  water.  Happening  just 
then  to  remember  Micas  Falls,  Ken  had  a 
momentary  chill  and  a  check  to  his  en- 
thusiasm for  the  jungle  trip.  What  if  he  en- 
countered, in  coming  down  the  Santa  Rosa, 
some  such  series  of  cascades  as  those  which 
made  Micas  Falls! 

It  was  about  noon  when  George  led  the 
boys  out  to  the  banks  of  the  broad  Panuco. 

17 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

Both  Hal  and  Ken  were  suffering  from  the 
heat.  They  had  removed  their  coats,  and 
were  now  very  glad  to  rest  in  the  shade. 

"This  is  a  nice  cool  day,"  said  George,  and 
he  looked  cool. 

"We've  got  on  our  heavy  clothes,  and  this 
tropic  sun  is  new  to  us,"  replied  Ken.  "Say, 
Hal—" 

A  crash  in  the  water  near  the  shore  in- 
terrupted Ken. 

"Was  that  a  rhinoceros?"  inquired  Hal. 

"Savalo,"  said  George. 

"What's  that?" 

"Silver  king.  A  tarpon.  Look  around 
and  you'll  see  one  break  water.  There  are 
some  fishermen  trolling  down-stream.  Watch. 
Maybe  one  will  hook  a  fish  presently.  Then 
you'll  see  some  jumping." 

It  was  cool  in  the  shade,  as  the  brothers 
soon  discovered,  and  they  spent  a  delightful 
hour  watching  the  river  and  the  wild  fowl 
and  the  tarpon.  Ken  and  Hal  were  always 
lucky.  Things  happened  for  their  benefit 
and  pleasure.  Not  only  did  they  see  many 
tarpon  swirl  like  bars  of  silver  on  the  water, 
but  a  fisherman  hooked  one  of  the  great  fish 
not  fifty  yards  from  where  the  boys  sat. 
And  they  held  their  breath,  and  with  starting 
eyes  watched  the  marvelous  leaps  and  dashes 

18 


THE   HOME  OF  THE  TARPON 

of  the  tarpon  till,  as  he  shot  up  in  a  last 
mighty  effort,  wagging  his  head,  slapping  his 
huge  gills,  and  flinging  the  hook  like  a  bullet, 
he  plunged  back  free. 

"Nine  out  often  get  away,  "remarked  George. 

"  Did  you  ever  catch  one?"  asked  Hal. 

"Sure." 

"Hal,  I've  got  to  have  some  of  this  fishing," 
said  Ken.  "  But  if  we  start  at  it  now — would 
we  ever  get  that  jungle  trip?" 

"Oh,  Ken,  you've  made  up  your  mind  to 
go!"  exclaimed  Hal,  in  glee. 

"No,  I  haven't,"  protested  Ken. 

"Yes,  you  have,"  declared  Hal.  "I  know 
you."  And  the  whoop  that  he  had  suppressed 
in  the  hotel  he  now  let  out  with  good  measure. 

Naturally  George  was  interested,  and  at 
his  inquiry  Ken  told  him  the  idea  for  the 
Santa  Rosa  trip. 

"Take  me  along,"  said  George.  There  was 
a  note  of  American  spirit  in  his  voice,  a  laugh 
on  his  lips,  and  a  flash  in  his  eyes  that  made 
Ken  look  at  him  attentively.  He  was  a  slim 
youth,  not  much  Hal's  senior,  and  Ken 
thought  if  ever  a  boy  had  been  fashioned  to 
be  a  boon  comrade  of  Hal  Ward  this  George 
Ailing  was  the  boy. 

"What  do  you  think  of  the  trip?"  inquired 
Ken,  curiously. 

19 


"Fine.  We'll  have  some  fun.  Well  get 
a  boat  and  a  mozo — " 

"What's  a  mozo?" 

"A  native  boatman." 

"  That's  a  good  idea.  I  hadn't  thought  of  a 
boatman  to  help  row.  But  the  boat  is  the 
particular  thing.  I  wouldn't  risk  a  trip  in 
one  of  those  canoes." 

"Come  on,  I'll  find  a  boat,"  said  George. 

And  before  he  knew  it  George  and  Hal 
were  leading  him  back  from  the  river.  George 
led  him  down  narrow  lanes,  between  painted 
stone  houses  and  iron-barred  windows,  till 
they  reached  the  canal.  They  entered  a  yard 
where  buzzards,  goats,  and  razor-back  pigs 
were  contesting  over  the  scavenger  rights. 
George  went  into  a  boat-house  and  pointed 
out  a  long,  light,  wide  skifT  with  a  flat  bottom. 
Ken  did  not  need  George's  praise,  or  the 
shining  light  in  Hal's  eyes,  or  the  boat- 
keeper's  importunities  to  make  him  eager  to 
try  this  particular  boat.  Ken  Ward  knew  a 
boat  when  he  saw  one.  He  jumped  in, 
shoved  it  out,  rowed  up  the  canal,  pulled  and 
turned,  backed  water,  and  tried  every  stroke 
he  knew.  Then  he  rested  on  the  oars  and 
whistled.  Hal's  shout  of  delight  made  him 
stop  whistling.  Those  two  boys  would  have 
him  started  on  the  trip  if  he  did  not  look  sharp. 

20 


THE    HOME   OF    THE    TARPON 

"It's  a  dandy  boat,"  said  Ken. 

"Only  a  peso  a  day,  Ken,"  went  on  Hal. 
"One  dollar  Mex — fifty  cents  in  our  money. 
Quick,  Ken,  hire  it  before  somebody  else  gets  it. ' ' 

"Sure  I'll  hire  the  boat,"  replied  Ken;  "but 
Hal,  it's  not  for  that  Santa  Rosa  trip.  We'll 
have  to  forget  that." 

"Forget  your  grandmother!"  cried  Hal. 
And  then  it  was  plain  that  he  tried  valiantly 
to  control  himself,  to  hide  his  joy,  to  pretend 
to  agree  with  Ken's  ultimatum. 

Ken  had  a  feeling  that  his  brother  knew 
him  perfectly,  and  he  was  divided  between 
anger  and  amusement.  They  returned  to 
the  hotel  and  lounged  in  the  lobby.  The 
proprietor  was  talking  with  some  Americans, 
and  as  he  now  appeared  to  be  at  leisure  he 
introduced  the  brothers  and  made  himself 
agreeable.  Moreover,  he  knew  George  Ailing 
well.  They  began  to  chat,  and  Ken  was  con- 
siderably annoyed  to  hear  George  calmly 
state  that  he  and  his  new-found  friends  in- 
tended to  send  a  boat  up  to  Valles  and  come 
down  an  unknown  jungle  river. 

The  proprietor  laughed,  and,  though  the 
laugh  was  not  unpleasant,  somehow  it  nettled 
Ken  Ward. 

"Why  not  go?"  he  asked,  quietly,  and  hd 
looked  at  the  hotel  man. 

21 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

"My  boy,  you  can't  undertake  any  trip 
like  that." 

"Why  not?"  persisted  Ken.  "Is  there  any 
law  here  to  prevent  our  going  into  the  jungle?" 

"There's  no  law.  No  one  could  stop  you. 
But,  my  lad,  what's  the  sense  of  taking  such 
a  fool  trip?  The  river  here  is  full  of  tarpon 
right  now.  There  are  millions  of  ducks  and 
geese  on  the  lagoons.  You  can  shoot  deer 
and  wild  turkey  right  on  the  edge  of  town. 
If  you  want  tiger  and  javelin,  go  out  to  one  of 
the  ranches  where  they  have  dogs  to  hunt 
with,  where  you'll  have  a  chance  for  your 
life.  These  tigers  and  boars  will  kill  a  man. 
There's  all  the  sport  any  one  wants  right 
close  to  Tampico." 

"I  don't  see  how  all  that  makes  a  reason 
why  we  shouldn't  come  down  the  Santa 
Rosa,"  replied  Ken.  "We  want  to  explore— 
map  the  river." 

The  hotel  man  seemed  nettled  in  return. 

"You're  only  kids.  It  'd  be  crazy  to  start 
out  on  that  wild  trip." 

It  was  on  Ken's  lips  to  mention  a  few  of 
the  adventures  which  he  believed  justly  gave 
him  a  right  to  have  pride  and  confidence  in 
his  ability.  But  he  forbore. 

"It's  a  fool  trip,"  continued  the  proprie- 
tor. "  You  don't  know  this  river.  You  don't 

22 


THE   HOME   OF    THE    TARPON 

know  where  you'll  come  out.  It's  wild  up 
in  that  jungle.  I've  hunted  up  at  Valles, 
and  no  native  I  ever  met  would  go  a  mile 
from  the  village.  If  you  take  a  mozo  he'll 
get  soaked  with  canya.  He'll  stick  a  knife 
in  you  or  run  off  and  leave  you  when  you 
most  need  help.  Nobody  ever  explored  that 
river.  It  '11  likely  be  full  of  swamps,  sand- 
bars, bogs.  You'd  get  fever.  Then  the  croc- 
odiles, the  boars,  the  bats,  the  snakes,  the 
tigers!  Why,  if  you  could  face  these  you'd 
still  have  the  ticks — the  worst  of  all.  The 
ticks  would  drive  men  crazy,  let  alone  boys. 
It's  no  undertaking  for  a  boy." 

The  mention  of  all  these  dangers  would 
have  tipped  the  balance  for  Ken  in  favor  of 
the  Santa  Rosa  trip,  even  if  the  hint  of  his 
callowness  had  not  roused  his  spirit. 

"Thank  you.  I'm  sure  you  mean  kindly," 
said  Ken.  "But  I'm  going  to  Valles  and  I'll 
come  down  that  jungle  river." 

3 


Ill 

AN   INDIAN   BOATMAN 

r"PHE  moment  the  decision  was  made  Ken 
*  felt  both  sorry  and  glad.  He  got  the 
excited  boys  outside  away  from  the  critical 
and  anxious  proprietor.  And  Ken  decided 
it  was  incumbent  upon  him  to  adopt  a  serious 
and  responsible  manner,  which  he  was  far 
from  feeling.  So  he  tried  to  be  as  cool  as 
Hiram  Bent,  with  a  fatherly  interest  in  the 
two  wild  boys  who  were  to  accompany  him 
down  the  Santa  Rosa. 

"Now,  George,  steer  us  around  till  we  find 
a  mozo,"  said  Ken.  "Then  well  buy  an  out- 
fit and  get  started  on  this  trip  before  you 
can  say  Jack  Robinson." 

All  the  mozos  the  boys  interviewed  were 
eager  to  get  work;  however,  when  made  ac- 
quainted with  the  nature  of  the  trip  they 
refused  point  blank. 

"Tigre!"  exclaimed  one. 

"Javelin!"  exclaimed  another. 

The  big  spotted  jaguar  of  the  jungle  and 
24 


AN    INDIAN    BOATMAN 

the  wild  boar,  or  peccary,  were  held  in  much 
dread  by  the  natives. 

"These  natives  will  climb  a  tree  at  sight 
of  a  tiger  or  pig,"  said  George.  "For  my 
part  I'm  afraid  of  the  garrapatoes  and  the 
pinilius." 

"What  're  they?"  asked  Hal. 

"Ticks — jungle  ticks.  Just  wait  till  you 
make  their  acquaintance." 

Finally  the  boys  met  a  mozo  named  Pepe, 
who  had  often  rowed  a  boat  for  George. 
Pepe  looked  sadly  in  need  of  a  job;  still  he 
did  not  ask  for  it.  George  said  that  Pepe 
had  been  one  of  the  best  boatmen  on  the 
river  until  canya,  the  fiery  white  liquor  to 
which  the  natives  were  addicted,  had  ruined 
his  reputation.  Pepe  wore  an  old  sombrero, 
a  cotton  shirt  and  sash,  and  ragged  trousers. 
He  was  barefooted.  Ken  noted  the  set  of 
his  muscular  neck,  his  brawny  shoulders  and 
arms,  and  appreciated  the  years  of  rowing 
that  had  developed  them.  But  Pepe's  hag- 
gard face,  deadened  eyes,  and  listless  manner 
gave  Ken  pause.  Still,  Ken  reflected,  there 
was  never  any  telling  what  a  man  might  do, 
if  approached  right.  Pepe's  dejection  excited 
Ken's  sympathy.  So  Ken  clapped  him  on 
the  shoulder,  and,  with  George  acting  as  in- 
terpreter, offered  Pepe  work  for  several  weeks 

25 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

at  three  pesos  a  day.  That  was  more  than 
treble  the  mozo's  wage.  Pepe  nearly  fell  off 
the  canal  bridge,  where  he  was  sitting,  and  a 
light  as  warm  and  bright  as  sunshine  flashed 
into  his  face. 

"Si,  Senor — Si,  Senor,"  he  began  to  jabber, 
and  waved  his  brown  hands. 

Ken  suspected  that  Pepe  needed  a  job 
and  a  little  kind  treatment.  He  was  sure  of 
it  when  George  said  Pepe's  wife  and  children 
were  in  want.  Somehow  Ken  conceived  a 
liking  for  Pepe,  and  believed  he  could  trust 
him.  He  thought  he  knew  how  to  deal  with 
poor  Pepe.  So  he  gave  him  money,  told 
him  to  get  a  change  of  clothes  and  a  pair  of 
shoes,  and  come  to  the  hotel  next  day. 

"He'll  spend  the  money  for  canya,  and  not 
show  up  to-morrow,"  said  George. 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  your  na- 
tives, but  that  fellow  will  come,"  declared 
Ken. 

It  appeared  that  the  whole  American  colony 
in  Tampico  had  been  acquainted  with  Ken 
Ward's  project,  and  made  a  business  to  way- 
lay the  boys  at  each  corner.  They  called 
the  trip  a  wild-goose  chase.  They  declared 
it  was  a  dime-novel  idea,  and  could  hardly 
take  Ken  seriously.  They  mingled  astonish- 
ment with  amusement  and  concern.  They 

26 


AN    INDIAN    BOATMAN 

advised  Ken  not  to  go,  and  declared  they 
would  not  let  him  go.  Over  and  over  again 
the  boys  were  assured  of  the  peril  from 
ticks,  bats,  boars,  crocodiles,  snakes,  tigers, 
and  fevers. 

"That's  what  I'm  taking  the  trip  for," 
snapped  Ken,  driven  to  desperation  by  all 
this  nagging. 

"Well,  young  man,  I  admire  your  nerve," 
concluded  the  hotel  man.  "If  you're  de- 
termined to  go,  we  can't  stop  you.  And 
there's  some  things  we  would  like  you  to  find 
out  for  us.  How  far  do  tarpon  run  up  the 
Panuco  River?  Do  they  spawn  up  there? 
How  big  are  the  new-born  fish?  I'll  furnish 
you  with  tackle  and  preserved  mullet,  for 
bait.  We've  always  wondered  about  how 
far  tarpon  go  up  into  fresh  water.  Keep  your 
eye  open  for  signs  of  oil.  Also  look  at  the 
timber.  And  be  sure  to  make  a  map  of  the 
river." 

When  it  came  to  getting  the  boat  shipped 
the  boys  met  with  more  obstacles.  But 
for  the  friendly  offices  of  a  Texan,  an  employee 
of  the  railroad,  they  would  never  have  been 
able  to  convince  the  native  shipping  agent 
that  a  boat  was  merchandise.  The  Texan 
arranged  the  matter  and  got  Ken  a  freight 
bill.  He  took  an  entirely  different  view  of 

27 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

Ken's  enterprise,  compared  with  that  of  other 
Americans,  and  in  a  cool,  drawling  voice, 
which  somehow  reminded  Ken  of  Jim  Wil- 
liams, he  said: 

"Shore  you -all  will  have  the  time  of 
your  lives.  I  worked  at  Valles  for  a  year. 
That  jungle  is  full  of  game.  I  killed  three 
big  tigers.  You-all  want  to  look  out  for 
those  big  yellow  devils.  One  in  every  three 
will  jump  for  a  man.  There's  nothing  but 
shoot,  then.  And  the  wild  pigs  are  bad. 
They  put  me  up  a  tree  more  than  once. 
I  don't  know  much  about  the  Santa  Rosa. 
Its  source  is  above  Micas  Falls.  Never 
heard  where  it  goes.  I  know  it's  full  of  croc- 
odiles and  rapids.  Never  saw  a  boat  or  a 
canoe  at  Valles.  And  say — there  are  big  black 
snakes  in  the  jungle.  Look  out  for  them,  too. 
Shore  you-all  have  sport  a-comin'." 

Ken  thanked  the  Texan,  and  as  he  went 
on  up-street,  for  all  his  sober  thoughtfulness, 
he  was  as  eager  as  Hal  or  George.  However, 
his  position  as  their  guardian  would  not  per- 
mit any  show  of  extravagant  enthusiasm. 

Ken  bought  blankets,  cooking  utensils, 
and  supplies  for  three  weeks.  There  was  not 
such  a  thing  as  a  tent  in  Tampico.  The 
best  the  boys  could  get  for  a  shelter  was  a 
long  strip  of  canvas  nine  feet  wide. 

28 


AN   INDIAN   BOATMAN 

"That  '11  keep  off  the  wet,"  said  Ken,  "but 
it  won't  keep  out  the  mosquitoes  and  things." 

"Couldn't  keep  'em  out  if  we  had  six 
tents,"  replied  George. 

The  remainder  of  that  day  the  boys  were 
busy  packing  the  outfit. 

Pepe  presented  himself  at  the  hotel  next 
morning  an  entirely  different  person.  He  was 
clean-shaven,  and  no  longer  disheveled.  He 
wore  a  net*  sombrero,  a  white  cotton  shirt, 
a  red  sash,  and  blue  trousers.  He  carried 
a  small  bundle,  a  pair  of  shoes,  and  a  long 
machete.  The  dignity  with  which  he  ap- 
proached before  all  the  other  mozos  was  not 
lost  upon  Ken  Ward.  A  sharp  scrutiny 
satisfied  him  that  Pepe  had  not  been  drink- 
ing. Ken  gave  him  several  errands  to  do. 
Then  he  ordered  the  outfit  taken  to  the 
station  in  Pepe's  charge. 

The  boys  went  down  early  in  the  afternoon. 
It  was  the  time  when  the  mozos  were  return- 
ing from  the  day's  tarpon-fishing  on  the 
river,  and  they,  with  the  cargodores,  streamed 
to  and  fro  on  the  platform.  Pepe  was  there 
standing  guard  over  Ken's  outfit.  He  had 
lost  his  fame  among  his  old  associates,  and 
for  long  had  been  an  outsider.  Here  he  was 
in  charge  of  a  pile  of  fine  guns,  fishing-tackle, 
baggage,  and  supplies — a  collection  represent- 

29 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

ing  a  fortune  to  him  and  his  simple  class. 
He  had  been  trusted  with  it.  It  was  under 
his  eye.  All  his  old  associates  passed  by  to 
see  him  there.  That  was  a  great  time  for 
Pepe.  He  looked  bright,  alert,  and  supreme- 
ly happy.  It  would  have  fared  ill  with 
thieves  or  loafers  who  would  have  made 
themselves  free  with  any  of  the  articles  under 
his  watchful  eye. 

The  train  pulled  out  of  Tampico  at  five 
o'clock,  and  Hal's  "We're  off!"  was  expres- 
sive. 

The  railroad  lay  along  the  river-bank, 
and  the  broad  Panuco  was  rippling  with  the 
incoming  tide.  If  Ken  and  Hal  had  not 
already  found  George  to  be  invaluable  as  a 
companion  in  this  strange  country  they  would 
have  discovered  it  then.  For  George  could 
translate  Pepe's  talk,  and  explain  much  that 
otherwise  would  have  been  dark  to  the  broth- 
ers. Wild  ducks  dotted  the  green  surface, 
and  spurts  showed  where  playful  ravalo  were 
breaking  water.  Great  green-backed  tarpon 
rolled  their  silver  sides  against  the  little 
waves.  White  cranes  and  blue  herons  stood 
like  statues  upon  the  reedy  bars.  Low  down 
over  the  opposite  bank  of  the  river  a  long 
line  of  wild  geese  winged  its  way  toward  a 
shimmering  lagoon.  And  against  the  gold 

30 


AN    INDIAN    BOATMAN 

and  crimson  of  the  sunset  sky  a  flight  of 
wild  fowl  stood  out  in  bold  black  relief.  The 
train  crossed  the  Tamesi  River  and  began  to 
draw  away  from  the  Panuco.  On  the  right, 
wide  marshes,  gleaming  purple  in  the  darken- 
ing light,  led  the  eye  far  beyond  to  endless 
pale  lagoons.  Birds  of  many  kinds  skimmed 
the  weedy  flats.  George  pointed  out  a  flock 
of  aigrets,  the  beautiful  wild  fowl  with  the 
priceless  plumes.  Then  there  was  a  string 
of  pink  flamingoes,  tall,  grotesque,  wading 
along  with  waddling  stride,  feeding  with 
heads  under  water. 

"Great!"  exclaimed  Ken  Ward. 

"It's  all  so  different  from  Arizona,"  said 
Hal. 

At  Tamos,  twelve  miles  out  of  Tampico, 
the  train  entered  the  jungle.  Thereafter 
the  boys  could  see  nothing  but  the  impene- 
trable green  walls  that  lined  the  track.  At 
dusk  the  train  reached  a  station  called  Las 
Palmas,  and  then  began  to  ascend  the  first 
step  of  the  mountain.  The  ascent  was  steep, 
and,  when  it  was  accomplished,  Ken  looked 
down  and  decided  that  step  of  the  mountain 
was  between  two  and  three  thousand  feet 
high.  The  moon  was  in  its  first  quarter, 
and  Ken,  studying  this  tropical  moon,  found 
it  large,  radiant,  and  a  wonderful  green-gold. 

31 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

It  shed  a  soft  luminous  glow  down  upon  the 
sleeping,  tangled  web  of  jungle.  It  was  new 
and  strange  to  Ken,  so  vastly  different  from 
barren  desert  or  iron-ribbed  canon,  and  it 
thrilled  him  with  nameless  charm. 

The  train  once  more  entered  jungle  walls, 
and  as  the  boys  could  not  see  anything  out 
of  the  windows  they  lay  back  in  their  seats 
and  waited  for  the  ride  to  end.  They  were 
due  at  Valles  at  ten  o'clock,  and  the  impatient 
Hal  complained  that  they  would  never  get 
there.  At  length  a  sharp  whistle  from  the 
engine  caused  Pepe  to  turn  to  the  boys  with  a 
smile. 

"Valles,"  he  said. 

With  rattle  and  clank  the  train  came  to  a 
halt.  Ken  sent  George  and  Pepe  out,  and  he 
and  Hal  hurriedly  handed  the  luggage  through 
the  open  window.  When  the  last  piece  had 
been  passed  into  Pepe's  big  hands  the  boys 
made  a  rush  for  the  door,  and  jumped  off 
as  the  train  started. 

"Say,  but  it's  dark,"  said  Hal. 

As  the  train  with  its  lights  passed  out  of 
sight  Ken  found  himself  in  what  seemed  a 
pitchy  blackness.  He  could  not  see  the  boys. 
And  he  felt  a  little  cold  sinking  of  his  heart 
at  the  thought  of  such  black  nights  on  an 
unknown  jungle  riyer. 

32 


IV 

AT  THE  JUNGLE   RIVER 

PRESENTLY,  as  Ken's  eyes  became  ac- 
1  customed  to  the  change,  the  darkness 
gave  place  to  pale  moonlight.  A  crowd  of 
chattering  natives,  with  wide  sombreros  on 
their  heads  and  blankets  over  their  shoulders, 
moved  round  the  little  stone  station.  Visitors 
were  rare  in  Valles,  as  was  manifested  by  the 
curiosity  aroused  by  the  boys  and  the  pile 
of  luggage. 

"Ask  Pepe  to  find  some  kind  of  lodging  for 
the  night,"  said  Ken  to  George. 

Pepe  began  to  question  the  natives,  and  soon 
was  lost  in  the  crowd.  Awhile  after,  as  Ken 
was  making  up  his  mind  they  might  have  to 
camp  on  the  station  platform,  a  queer  low 
'bus  drawn  by  six  little  mules  creaked  up. 
Pepe  jumped  off  the  seat  beside  the  driver,  and 
began  to  stow  the  luggage  away  in  the  'bus. 
Then  the  boys  piled  in  behind,  and  were  soon 
bowling  along  a  white  moonlit  road.  The 
soft  voices  of  natives  greeted  their  passing. 

33 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

Valles  appeared  to  be  about  a  mile  from 
the  station,  and  as  they  entered  the  village 
Ken  made  out  rows  of  thatched  huts,  and  here 
and  there  a  more  pretentious  habitation  of 
stone.  At  length  the  driver  halted  before 
a  rambling  house,  partly  stone  and  partly 
thatch.  There  were  no  lights;  in  fact,  Ken 
did  not  see  a  light  in  the  village.  George 
told  the  boys  to  take  what  luggage  each 
could  carry  and  follow  the  guide.  Inside 
the  house  it  was  as  dark  as  a  dungeon.  The 
boys  bumped  into  things  and  fell  over  each 
other  trying  to  keep  close  to  the  barefooted 
and  mysterious  guide.  Finally  they  climbed 
to  a  kind  of  loft,  where  the  moonlight  streamed 
in  at  the  open  sides. 

"What  do  you  think  of  this?"  panted  Hal, 
who  had  struggled  with  a  heavy  load  of 
luggage.  Pepe  and  the  guide  went  down  to 
fetch  up  the  remainder  of  the  outfit.  Ken 
thought  it  best  to  stand  still  until  he  knew 
just  where  he  was.  But  Hal  and  George 
began  moving  about  in  the  loft.  It  was  very 
large  and  gloomy,  and  seemed  open,  yet  full 
of  objects.  Hal  jostled  into  something  which 
creaked  and  fell  with  a  crash.  Then  followed 
a  yell,  a  jabbering  of  a  frightened  native,  and 
a  scuffling  about. 

"Hal,  what  'd  you  do?"  called  Ken,  severely. 

34 


AT   THE   JUNGLE    RIVER 

"You  can  search  me,"  replied  Hal  Ward. 
"One  thing — I  busted  my  shin." 

"He  knocked  over  a  bed  with  some  one 
sleeping  in  it,"  said  George. 

Pepe  arrived  in  the  loft  then  and  soon 
soothed  the  injured  feelings  of  the  native 
who  had  been  so  rudely  disturbed.  He  then 
led  the  boys  to  their  cots,  which  were  no  more 
than  heavy  strips  of  canvas  stretched  over 
tall  frameworks.  They  appeared  to  be  enor- 
mously high  for  beds.  Ken's  was  as  high 
as  his  head,  and  Ken  was  tall  for  his  age. 

"Say,  I'll  never  get  up  into  this  thing," 
burst  out  Hal.  "These  people  must  be 
afraid  to  sleep  near  the  floor.  George,  why 
are  these  cots  so  high?" 

"I  reckon  to  keep  the  pigs  and  dogs  and 
all  that  from  sleeping  with  the  natives," 
answered  George.  "Besides,  the  higher  you 
sleep  in  Mexico  the  farther  you  get  from 
creeping,  crawling  things." 

Ken  had  been  of  half  a  mind  to  sleep  on 
the  floor,  but  George's  remark  had  persuaded 
him  to  risk  the  lofty  cot.  It  was  most 
awkward  to  climb  into.  Ken  tried  several 
times  without  success,  and  once  he  just 
escaped  a  fall.  By  dint  of  muscle  and  a  good 
vault  he  finally  landed  in  the  center  of  his 
canvas.  From  there  he  listened  to  his  more 

35 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

unfortunate  comrades.  Pepe  got  into  his 
without  much  difficulty.  George,  however, 
in  climbing  up,  on  about  the  fifth  attempt 
swung  over  too  hard  and  rolled  off  on  the 
other  side.  The  thump  he  made  when  he 
dropped  jarred  the  whole  loft.  From  the 
various  growls  out  of  the  darkness  it  developed 
that  the  loft  was  full  of  sleepers,  who  were  not 
pleased  at  this  invasion.  Then  Hal's  cot 
collapsed,  and  went  down  with  a  crash. 
And  Hal  sat  on  the  flattened  thing  and 
laughed. 

"Mucho  malo,"  Pepe  said,  and  he  laughed, 
too.  Then  he  had  to  get  out  and  put  up 
Hal's  trestle  bed.  Hal  once  again  went  to 
climbing  up  the  framework,  and  this  time, 
with  Pepe's  aid,  managed  to  surmount  it. 

"George,  what  does  Pepe  mean  by  mucho 
malo?"  asked  Hal. 

"Bad — very  much  bad,"   replied  George. 

1 '  Nix — tell  him  nix.     This  is  fine, ' '  said  Hal. 

"Boys,  if  you  don't  want  to  sleep  your- 
selves, shut  up  so  the  rest  of  us  can,"  ordered 
Ken. 

He  liked  the  sense  of  humor  and  the  good 
fighting  spirit  of  the  boys,  and  fancied  they 
were  the  best  attributes  in  comrades  on  a 
wild  trip.  For  a  long  time  he  heard  a  kind 
of  shuddering  sound,  which  he  imagined  was 

36 


AT   THE   JUNGLE    RIVER 

Hal's  cot  quivering  as  the  boy  laughed.  Then 
absolute  quiet  prevailed,  the  boys  slept, 
and  Ken  felt  himself  drifting. 

When  he  awakened  the  sun  was  shining 
through  the  holes  in  the  thatched  roof. 
Pepe  was  up,  and  the  other  native  sleepers 
were  gone.  Ken  and  the  boys  descended  from 
their  perches  without  any  tumbles,  had  a 
breakfast  that  was  palatable — although  even 
George  could  not  name  what  they  ate — and 
then  were  ready  for  the  day. 

Valles  consisted  of  a  few  stone  houses  and 
many  thatched  huts  of  bamboo  and  palm. 
There  was  only  one  street,  and  it  was  full  of 
pigs,  dogs,  and  buzzards.  The  inhabitants 
manifested  a  kindly  interest  and  curiosity, 
which  changed  to  consternation  when  they 
learned  of  the  boys'  project.  Pepe  ques- 
tioned many  natives,  and  all  he  could  learn 
about  the  Santa  Rosa  was  that  there  was  an 
impassable  waterfall  some  few  kilometers 
below  Valles.  Ken  gritted  his  teeth  and  said 
they  would  have  to  get  past  it.  Pepe  did  not 
encounter  a  man  who  had  ever  heard  of  the 
headwaters  of  the  Panuco  River.  There  were 
only  a  few  fields  under  cultivation  around 
Valles,  and  they  were  inclosed  by  impene- 
trable jungle.  It  seemed  useless  to  try  to 
find  out  anything  about  the  river.  But 

37 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

Pepe's  advisers  in  the  village  told  enough 
about  tigre  and  javelin  to  make  Hal's  hair 
stand  on  end,  and  George  turn  pale,  and 
Ken  himself  wish  they  had  not  come.  It  all 
gave  Ken  both  a  thrill  and  a  shock. 

There  was  not  much  conversation  among  the 
boys  on  the  drive  back  to  the  station.  How- 
ever, sight  of  the  boat,  which  had  come  by 
freight,  stirred  Ken  with  renewed  spirit,  and 
through  him  that  was  communicated  to  the 
others. 

The  hardest  task,  so  far,  developed  in  the 
matter  of  transporting  boat  and  supplies  out 
to  the  river.  Ken  had  hoped  to  get  a  hand- 
car and  haul  the  outfit  on  the  track  down  to 
where  the  bridge  crossed  the  Santa  Rosa. 
But  there  was  no  hand-car.  Then  came  the 
staggering  information  that  there  was  no 
wagon  which  would  carry  the  boat,  and  then 
worse  still  in  the  fact  that  there  was  no  road. 
This  discouraged  Ken;  nevertheless  he  had 
not  the  least  idea  of  giving  up.  He  sent 
Pepe  out  to  tell  the  natives  there  must  be 
some  way  to  get  the  outfit  to  the  river. 

Finally  Pepe  found  a  fellow  who  had  a  cart. 
This  fellow  claimed  he  knew  a  trail  that  went 
to  a  point  from  which  it  would  be  easy  to 
carry  the  boat  to  the  river.  Ken  had  Pepe 
hire  the  man  at  once. 

38 


AT   THE   JUNGLE    RIVER 

"Bring  on  your  old  cart,"  said  the  irre- 
pressible Hal. 

That  cart  turned  out  to  be  a  remarkable 
vehicle.  It  consisted  of  a  narrow  body  be- 
tween enormously  high  wheels.  A  trio  of 
little  mules  was  hitched  to  it.  The  driver 
willingly  agreed  to  haul  the  boat  and  outfit 
for  one  peso,  but  when  he  drove  up  to  the 
platform  to  be  surrounded  by  neighbors,  he 
suddenly  discovered  that  he  could  not  possibly 
accommodate  the  boys.  Patiently  Pepe  tried 
to  persuade  him.  No,  the  thing  was  im- 
possible. He  made  no  excuses,  but  he  looked 
mysterious. 

"George,  tell  Pepe  to  offer  him  five  pesos," 
said  Ken. 

Pepe  came  out  bluntly  with  the  induce- 
ment, and  the  driver  began  to  sweat.  From 
the  look  of  his  eyes  Ken  fancied  he  had  not 
earned  so  much  money  in  a  year.  Still  he 
was  cunning,  and  his  whispering  neighbors 
lent  him  support.  He  had  the  only  cart  in 
the  village,  and  evidently  it  seemed  that  for- 
tune had  come  to  knock  at  least  once  at  his 
door.  He  shook  his  head. 

Ken  held  up  both  hands  with  fingers  spread. 
"Ten  pesos,"  he  said. 

The  driver,  like  a  crazy  man,  began  to  jab- 
ber his  consent. 

4  39 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE    JUNGLE 

The  boys  lifted  the  boat  upon  the  cart,  and 
tied  it  fast  in  front  so  that  the  stern  would  not 
sag.  Then  they  packed  the  rest  of  the  out- 
fit inside. 

Ken  was  surprised  to  see  how  easily  the 
little  mules  trotted  off  with  such  a  big  load. 
At  the  edge  of  the  jungle  he  looked  back 
toward  the  station.  The  motley  crowd  of 
natives  were  watching,  making  excited  ges- 
tures, and  all  talking  at  once.  The  driver 
drove  into  a  narrow  trail,  which  closed  be- 
hind him.  Pepe  led  on  foot,  brushing  aside 
the  thick  foliage.  Ken  drew  a  breath  of 
relief  as  he  passed  into  the  cool  shade.  The 
sun  was  very  hot.  Hal  and  George  brought 
up  the  rear,  talking  fast. 

The  trail  was  lined  and  overgrown  with 
slender  trees,  standing  very  close,  making 
dense  shade.  Many  birds,  some  of  beautiful 
coloring,  flitted  in  the  branches.  In  about 
an  hour  the  driver  entered  a  little  clearing 
where  there  were  several  thatched  huts. 
Ken  heard  the 'puffing  of  an  engine,  and, 
looking  through  the  trees,  he  saw  the  rail- 
road and  knew  they  had  arrived  at  the 
pumping-station  and  the  bridge  over  the 
Santa  Rosa. 

Pepe  lost  no  time  in  rounding  up  six 
natives  to  carry  the  boat.  They  did  not  seem 

40 


AT   THE   JUNGLE    RIVER 

anxious  to  oblige  Pepe,  although  they  plainly 
wanted  the  money  he  offered.  The  trouble 
was  the  boat,  at  which  they  looked  askance. 
As  in  the  case  with  the  driver,  however,  the 
weight  and  clinking  of  added  silver  overcame 
their  reluctance.  They  easily  lifted  the  boat 
upon  their  shoulders.  And  as  they  entered 
the  trail,  making  a  strange  procession  in  the 
close-bordering  foliage,  they  encountered  two 
natives,  who  jumped  and  ran,  yelling:  "La 
diable!  La  diable!" 

"What  ails  those  gazabos?"  asked  Hal. 

"They're  scared,"  replied  George.  "They 
thought  the  boat  was  the  devil." 

If  Ken  needed  any  more  than  had  already 
come  to  him  about  the  wildness  of  the  Santa 
Rosa,  he  had  it  in  the  frightened  cries  and 
bewilderment  of  these  natives.  They  had 
never  seen  a  boat.  The  Santa  Rosa  was  a 
beautiful  wild  river  upon  which  boats  were 
unknown.  Ken  had  not  hoped  for  so  much. 
And  now  that  the  die  was  cast  he  faced  the 
trip  with  tingling  gladness. 

"  George  and  Hal,  you  stay  behind  to  watch 
the  outfit.  Pepe  and  I  will  carry  what  we 
can  and  follow  the  boat.  I'll  send  back  after 
you,"  said  Ken. 

Then  as  he  followed  Pepe  and  the  natives 
down  the  trail  there  was  a  deep  satisfaction 

41 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

within  him.  He  heard  the  soft  rush  of  water 
over  stones  and  the  mourning  of  turtle- 
doves. He  rounded  a  little  hill  to  come 
abruptly  upon  the  dense  green  mass  of  river 
foliage.  Giant  cypress- trees,  bearded  with 
gray  moss,  fringed  the  banks.  Through  the 
dark  green  of  leaves  Ken  caught  sight  of 
light-green  water.  Birds  rose  all  about  him. 
There  were  rustlings  in  the  thick  under- 
brush and  the  whir  of  ducks.  The  natives 
penetrated  the  dark  shade  and  came  out  to 
an  open,  grassy  point. 

The  Santa  Rosa,  glistening,  green,  swift, 
murmured  at  Ken's  feet.  The  natives  dropped 
the  boat  into  the  water,  and  with  Pepe 
went  back  for  the  rest  of  the  outfit.  Ken 
looked  up  the  shady  lane  of  the  river  and 
thought  of  the  moment  when  he  had  crossed 
the  bridge  in  the  train.  Then,  as  much  as  he 
had  longed  to  be  there,  he  had  not  dared  to 
hope  it.  And  here  he  was!  How  strange 
it  was,  just  then,  to  see  a  large  black  duck 
with  white-crested  wings  sweep  by  as  swift 
as  the  wind!  Ken  had  seen  that  wild  fowl, 
or  one  of  his  kind,  and  it  had  haunted  him. 


THE  FIRST  CAMP 

I N  less  than  an  hour  all  the  outfit  had  been 
A  carried  down  to  the  river,  and  the  boys 
sat  in  the  shade,  cooling  off,  happily  conscious 
that  they  had  made  an  auspicious  start. 

It  took  Ken  only  a  moment  to  decide  to 
make  camp  there  and  the  next  day  try  to 
reach  Micas  Falls.  The  mountains  appeared 
close  at  hand,  and  were  so  lofty  that,  early 
in  the  afternoon  as  it  was,  the  westering  sun 
hung  over  the  blue  summits.  The  notch 
where  the  Santa  Rosa  cut  through  the  range 
stood  out  clear,  and  at  most  it  was  not 
more  than  eighteen  miles  distant.  So  Ken 
planned  to  spend  a  day  pulling  up  the  river, 
and  then  to  turn  for  the  down-stream  trip. 

"Come,  boys,  let's  make  camp,"  said  Ken. 

He  sent  Pepe  with  his  long  machete  into  the 
brush  to  cut  fire- wood.  Hal  he  set  to  making 
a  stone  fireplace,  which  work  the  boy  rather 
prided  himself  upon  doing  well.  Ken  got 
George  to  help  him  to  put  up  the  strip  of 

43 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

canvas.  They  stretched  a  rope  between  two 
trees,  threw  the  canvas  over  it,  and  pegged 
down  the  ends. 

"Say,  how  're  we  going  to  sleep?"  inquired 
Hal,  suddenly. 

"Sleep?  Why,  on  our  backs,  of  course," 
retorted  Ken,  who  could  read  Hal's  mind. 

"If  we  don't  have  some  hot  old  times 
keeping  things  out  of  this  tent,  I'm  a  lobster," 
said  George,  dubiously.  "I'm  going  to  sleep 
in  the  middle." 

"You're  a  brave  boy,  George,"  replied 
Ken. 

"Me  for  between  Ken  and  Pepe,"  added 
Hal. 

"And  you're  twice  as  brave,"  said  Ken. 
"I  dare  say  Pepe  and  I  will  be  able  to  keep 
things  from  getting  at  you." 

Just  as  Pepe  came  into  camp  staggering 
under  a  load  of  wood,  a  flock  of  russet-colored 
ducks  swung  round  the  bend.  They  alighted 
near  the  shore  at  a  point  opposite  the  camp. 
The  way  George  and  Hal  made  headers  into 
the  pile  of  luggage  for  their  guns  gave  Ken 
an  inkling  of  what  he  might  expect  from  these 
lads.  He  groaned,  and  then  he  laughed. 
George  came  up  out  of  the  luggage  first,  and 
he  had  a  .22-caliber  rifle,  which  he  quickly 
loaded  and  fired  into  the  flock.  He  crippled 

44 


THE    FIRST   CAMP 

one ;  the  others  flew  up-stream.  Then  George 
began  to  waste  shells  trying  to  kill  the  crip- 
pled duck.  Hal  got  into  action  with  his  .22. 
They  bounced  bullets  off  the  water  all  around 
the  duck,  but  they  could  not  hit  it. 

Pepe  grew  as  excited  as  the  boys,  and  he 
jumped  into  the  boat  and  with  a  long  stick 
began  to  pole  out  into  the  stream.  Ken 
had  to  caution  George  and  Hal  to  lower  their 
guns  and  not  shoot  Pepe.  Below  camp  and 
just  under  the  bridge  the  water  ran  into  a 
shallow  rift.  The  duck  got  onto  the  current 
and  went  round  the  bend,  with  Pepe  polling 
in  pursuit  and  George  and  Hal  yelling  along 
the  shore.  When  they  returned  a  little 
later,  they  had  the  duck,  which  was  of  an  un- 
known species  to  Ken.  Pepe  had  fallen  over- 
board; George  was  wet  to  his  knees;  and, 
though  Hal  did  not  show  any  marks  of  undue 
exertion,  his  eyes  would  have  enlightened  any 
beholder.  The  fact  was  that  they  were 
glowing  with  the  excitement  of  the  chase. 
It  amused  Ken.  He  felt  that  he  had  to  try 
to  stifle  his  own  enthusiasm.  There  had  to 
be  one  old  head  in  the  party.  But  if  he  did 
have  qualms  over  the  possibilities  of  the  boys 
to  worry  him  with  their  probable  escapades, 
he  still  felt  happy  at  their  boundless  life  and 
spirit. 

45 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

It  was  about  the  middle  of  the  afternoon, 
and  the  heat  had  become  intense.  Ken 
realized  it  doubly  when  he  saw  Pepe  favoring 
the  shade.  George  and  Hal  were  hot,  but  they 
appeared  to  be  too  supremely  satisfied  with 
their  surroundings  to  care  about  that. 

During  this  hot  spell,  which  lasted  from 
three  o'clock  until  five,  there  was  a  quiet 
and  a  lack  of  life  around  camp  that  sur- 
prised Ken.  It  was  slumberland;  even  the 
insects  seemed  drowsy.  Not  a  duck  and 
scarcely  a  bird  passed  by.  Ken  heard  the 
mourning  of  turtle-doves,  and  was  at  once 
struck  with  the  singular  deep,  full  tone. 
Several  trains  crossed  the  bridge,  and  at 
intervals  the  engine  at  the  pumping-tank 
puffed  and  chugged.  From  time  to  time  a 
native  walked  out  upon  the  bridge  to  stare 
long  and  curiously  at  the  camp. 

When  the  sun  set  behind  the  mountain 
a  hard  breeze  swept  down  the  river.  Ken 
did  not  know  what  to  make  of  it,  and  at  first 
thought  there  was  going  to  be  a  storm.  Pepe 
explained  that  the  wind  blew  that  way  every 
day  after  sunset.  For  a  while  it  tossed  the 
willows,  and  waved  the  Spaniard 's-beard  upon 
the  cypresses.  Then  as  suddenly  as  it  had 
come  it  died  away,  taking  the  heat  with  it. 

Whereupon  the  boys  began  to  get  supper, 
46 


THE    FIRST   CAMP 

"George,  do  you  know  anything  about 
this  water?"  asked  Ken.  "Is  it  safe?" 

George  supposed  it  was  all  right,  but  he 
did  not  know.  The  matter  of  water  had 
bothered  Ken  more  than  any  other  thing  in 
consideration  of  the  trip.  This  river- water 
was  cool  and  clear;  it  apparently  was  safe. 
But  Ken  decided  not  to  take  any  chances, 
and  to  boil  all  the  water  used.  All  at  once 
George  yelled,  "Canvasbacks!"  and  made  a 
dive  for  his  gun.  Ken  saw  a  flock  of  ducks 
swiftly  winging  flight  up-stream. 

"Hold  on,  George;  don't  shoot,"  called 
Ken.  "Let's  go  a  little  slow  at  the  start." 

George  appeared  to  be  disappointed,  though 
he  promptly  obeyed. 

Then  the  boys  had  supper,  rinding  the 
russet  duck  much  to  their  taste.  Ken  made 
a  note  of  Pepe's  capacity,  and  was  glad  there 
were  prospects  of  plenty  of  meat.  While 
they  were  eating,  a  group  of  natives  gathered 
on  the  bridge.  Ken  would  not  have  liked  to 
interpret  their  opinion  of  his  party  from  their 
actions. 

Night  came  on  almost  before  the  boys 
were  ready  for  it.  They  replenished  the 
camp-fire,  and  sat  around  it,  looking  into  the 
red  blaze  and  then  out  into  the  flickering 
shadows.  Ken  thought  the  time  propitious 

47 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

for  a  little  lecture  he  had  to  give  the  boys^ 
and  he  remembered  how  old  Hiram  Bent 
had  talked  to  him  and  Hal  that  first  night 
down  under  the  great  black  rim-wall  of  the 
Grand  Canon. 

"Well,  fellows,"  began  Ken,  "we're  started, 
we're  here,  and  the  trip  looks  great  to  me. 
Now,  as  I  am  responsible,  I  intend  to  be  boss. 
I  want  you  boys  to  do  what  I  tell  you.  I  may 
make  mistakes,  but  if  I  do  I'll  take  them  on 
my  shoulders.  Let's  try  to  make  the  trip 
a  great  success.  Let's  be  careful.  We're 
not  game-hogs.  We'll  not  kill  any  more  than 
we  can  eat.  I  want  you  boys  to  be  careful 
with  your  guns.  Think  all  the  time  where 
you're  pointing  them.  And  as  to  thinking, 
we'd  do  well  to  use  our  heads  all  the  time. 
We've  no  idea  what  we're  going  up  against 
in  this  jungle." 

Both  boys  listened  to  Ken  with  attention 
and  respect,  but  they  did  not  bind  themselves 
by  any  promises. 

Ken  had  got  out  the  mosquito-netting,  ex- 
pecting any  moment  to  find  it  very  service- 
able; however,  to  his  surprise  it  was  not 
needed.  When  it  came  time  to  go  to  bed, 
Hal  and  George  did  not  forget  to  slip  in  be- 
tween Pepe  and  Ken.  The  open-sided  tent 
might  keep  off  rain  or  dew,  but  for  all  the 

48 


THE    FIRST   CAMP 

other  protection  it  afforded,  the  boys  might  as 
well  have  slept  outside.  Nevertheless  they 
were  soon  fast  asleep.  Ken  awoke  a  couple 
of  times  during  the  night  and  rolled  over  to 
find  a  softer  spot  in  the  hard  bed.  These 
times  he  heard  only  the  incessant  hum  of 
insects. 

When  he  opened  his  eyes  in  the  gray 
morning  light,  he  did  hear  something  that 
made  him  sit  up  with  a  start.  It  was  a  deep 
booming  sound,  different  from  anything  that 
he  had  ever  heard.  Ken  called  Pepe,  and 
that  roused  the  boys. 

"Listen,"  said  Ken. 

In  a  little  while  the  sound  was  repeated,  a 
heavy  "boo-oom!  .  .  .  boo-oom!"  There  was 
a  resemblance  to  the  first  strong  beats  of  a 
drumming  grouse,  only  infinitely  wilder. 

Pepe  called  it  something  like  "faisan  real." 

"What's  that?"  asked  Hal. 

The  name  was  as  new  to  Ken  as  the  noise 
itself.  Pepe  explained  through  George  that 
it  was  made  by  a  huge  black  bird  not  unlike  a 
turkey.  It  had  a  golden  plume,  and  could 
run  as  fast  as  a  deer.  The  boys  rolled  out, 
all  having  conceived  a  desire  to  see  such  a 
strange  bird.  The  sound  was  not  repeated. 
Almost  immediately,  however,  the  thicket 
across  the  river  awoke  to  another  sound,  as 

49 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

much  a  contrast  to  the  boom  as  could  be 
imagined.  It  was  a  bird  medley.  At  first  Ken 
thought  of  magpies,  but  Pepe  dispelled  this 
illusion  with  another  name  hard  to  pronounce, 

"Chicalocki,"  he  said. 

And  that  seemed  just  like  what  they  were 
singing.  It  was  a  sharp,  clear  song — "Chic- 
a-lock-i  .  .  .  chic-a-lock-i,"  and  to  judge  from 
the  full  chorus  there  must  have  been  many 
birds. 

"They're  a  kind  of  pheasant,"  added 
George,  "and  make  fine  pot-stews." 

The  chicalocki  ceased  their  salute  to  the 
morning,  and  then,  as  the  river  mist  melted 
away  under  the  rising  sun,  other  birds  took 
it  up.  Notes  new  to  Ken  burst  upon  the  air. 
And  familiar  old  songs  thrilled  him,  made  him 
think  of  summer  days  on  the  Susquehanna — 
the  sweet  carol  of  the  meadow-lark,  the  whistle 
of  the  quail,  the  mellow,  sad  call  of  the  swamp- 
blackbird.  The  songs  blended  in  an  exquisite 
harmony- 

"Why,  some  of  them  are  our  own  birds 
come  south  for  the  winter,"  declared  Hal. 

"It's  music,"  said  Ken. 

"Just  wait,"  laughed  George. 

It  dawned  upon  Ken  then  that  George  was 
a  fellow  who  had  the  mysterious  airs  of  a 
prophet  hinting  dire  things. 

So 


THE    FIRST   CAMP 

Ken  did  not  know  what  to  wait  for,  but 
he  enjoyed  the  suggestion  and  anticipated 
much.  Ducks  began  to  whir  by;  flocks  of 
blackbirds  alighted  in  the  trees  across  the 
river.  Suddenly  Hal  jumped  up,  and  Ken 
was  astounded  at  a  great  discordant  screech- 
ing and  a  sweeping  rush  of  myriads  of  wings. 
Ken  looked  up  to  see  the  largest  flock  of  birds 
he  had  ever  seen. 

"Parrots,"  he  yelled. 

Indeed  they  were,  and  they  let  the  boys 
know  it.  They  flew  across  the  river,  wheeled 
to  come  back,  all  the  time  screeching,  and  then 
they  swooped  down  into  the  tops  of  the 
cypress-trees. 

"Red-heads,"  said  George.  "Just  wait  till 
you  see  the  yellow-heads!" 

At  the  moment  the  red-heads  were  quite 
sufficient  for  Ken.  They  broke  out  into  a 
chattering,  screaming,  cackling  discordance. 
It  was  plainly  directed  at  the  boys.  These 
intelligent  birds  were  curious  and  resentful. 
As  Pepe  put  it,  they  were  scolding.  Ken 
enjoyed  it  for  a  full  half -hour  and  reveled 
in  the  din.  That  morning  serenade  was 
worth  the  trip.  Presently  the  parrots  flew 
away,  and  Ken  was  surprised  to  find  that  most 
of  the  other  birds  had  ceased  singing.  They 
had  set  about  the  business  of  the  day — 

Si 


KEN   WARD   IN    THE   JUNGLE 

something  it  was  nigh  time  for  Ken  to  con- 
sider. 

Breakfast  over,  the  boys  broke  camp, 
eager  for  the  adventures  that  they  felt  to  be 
before  them. 


VI 

WILDERNESS   LIFE 

"1VTOW  for  the  big  job,  boys,"  called  Ken. 
I  N  "Any  ideas  will  be  welcome,  but  don't 
all  talk  at  once." 

And  this  job  was  the  packing  of  the  out- 
fit in  the  boat.  It  was  a  study  for  Ken,  and 
he  found  himself  thanking  his  lucky  stars 
that  he  had  packed  boats  for  trips  on  rapid 
rivers.  George  and  Hal  came  to  the  fore 
with  remarkable  advice  which  Ken  was  at 
the  pains  of  rejecting.  And  as  fast  as  one 
wonderful  idea  emanated  from  the  fertile 
minds  another  one  came  in.  At  last  Ken  lost 
patience. 

"Kids,  it's  going  to  take  brains  to  pack 
this  boat,"  he  said,  with  some  scorn. 

And  when  Hal  remarked  that  in  that  case 
he  did  not  see  how  they  ever  were  going  to 
pack  the  boat,  Ken  drove  both  boys  away 
and  engaged  Pepe  to  help. 

The  boat  had  to  be  packed  for  a  long  trip, 
with  many  things  taken  into  consideration. 

53 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

The  very  best  way  to  pack  it  must  be  decided 
upon  and  thereafter  held  to  strictly.  Balance 
was  all-important;  comfort  and  elbow-room 
were  not  to  be  overlooked;  a  flat  surface 
easy  to  crawl  and  jump  over  was  absolutely 
necessary.  Fortunately,  the  boat  was  large 
and  roomy,  although  not  heavy.  The  first 
thing  Ken  did  was  to  cut  out  the  narrow 
bow-seat.  Here  he  packed  a  small  bucket 
of  preserved  mullet,  some  bottles  of  kerosene 
and  canya,  and  a  lantern.  The  small,  flat 
trunk,  full  of  supplies,  went  in  next.  Two 
boxes  with  the  rest  of  the  supplies  filled  up 
the  space  between  the  trunk  and  the  rowing- 
seat.  By  slipping  an  extra  pair  of  oars, 
coils  of  rope,  the  ax,  and  a  few  other  articles 
between  the  gunwales  and  the  trunk  and  boxes 
Ken  made  them  fit  snugly.  He  cut  off  a 
piece  of  the  canvas,  and,  folding  it,  he  laid  it 
with  the  blankets  lengthwise  over  the  top. 
This  made  a  level  surface,  one  that  could  be 
gotten  over  quickly,  or  a  place  to  sleep,  for 
that  matter,  and  effectually  disposed  of  the 
bow  half  of  the  boat.  Of  course  the  boat  sank 
deep  at  the  bow,  but  Ken  calculated  when  they 
were  all  aboard  their  weight  would  effect  an 
even  balance. 

The  bags  with  clothing  Ken  put  under  the 
second  seat.     Then  he  arranged  the  other 

54 


WILDERNESS    LIFE 

piece  of  canvas  so  that  it  projected  up  back 
of  the  stern  of  the  boat.  He  was  thinking 
of  the  waves  to  be  buffeted  in  going  stern 
first  down-stream  through  the  rapids.  The 
fishing-tackle  and  guns  he  laid  flat  from  seat 
to  seat.  Last  of  all  he  placed  the  ammuni- 
tion on  one  side  next  the  gunwale,  and  the 
suit-case  carrying  camera,  films,  medicines, 
on  the  other. 

"Come  now,  fellows,"  called  Ken.  "Hal, 
you  and  George  take  the  second  seat.  Pepe 
will  take  the  oars.  I'll  sit  in  the  stern." 

Pepe  pushed  off,  jumped  to  his  place,  and 
grasped  the  oars.  Ken  was  delighted  to 
find  the  boat  trim,  and  more  buoyant  than  he 
had  dared  to  hope. 

"We're  off,"  cried  Hal,  and  he  whooped. 
And  George  exercised  his  already  well-de- 
veloped faculty  of  imitating  Hal. 

Pepe  bent  to  the  oars,  and  under  his  power- 
ful strokes  the  boat  glided  up-stream.  Soon 
the  bridge  disappeared.  Ken  had  expected 
a  long,  shady  ride,  but  it  did  not  turn  out  so. 
Shallow  water  and  gravelly  rapids  made 
rowing  impossible. 

"Pile  out,  boys,  and  pull,"  said  Ken. 

The  boys  had  dressed  for  wading  and  rough 
work,  and  went  overboard  with  a  will.  Pull- 
ing, at  first,  was  not  hard  work.  They  were 

5  55 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

fresh  and  eager,  and  hauled  the  boat  up 
swift,  shallow  channels,  making  nearly  as 
good  time  as  when  rowing  in  smooth  water. 
Then,  as  the  sun  began  to  get  hot,  splashing 
in  the  cool  river  was  pleasant.  They  passed 
little  islands  green  with  willows  and  came  to 
high  clay -banks  gradually  wearing  away, 
and  then  met  with  rocky  restrictions  in  the 
stream-bed.  From  round  a  bend  came  a 
hollow  roar  of  a  deeper  rapid.  Ken  found  it 
a  swift-rushing  incline,  very  narrow,  and  hard 
to  pull  along.  The  margin  of  the  river  was 
hidden  and  obstructed  by  willows  so  that  the 
boys  could  see  very  little  ahead. 

When  they  got  above  this  fall  the  water 
was  deep  and  still.  Entering  the  boat  again, 
they  turned  a  curve  into  a  long,  beautiful 
stretch  of  river. 

"Ah!  this  's  something  like,"  said  Hal. 

The  green,  shady  lane  was  alive  with  birds 
and  water-fowl.  Ducks  of  various  kinds  rose 
before  the  boat.  White,  blue,  gray,  and 
speckled  herons,  some  six  feet  tall,  lined  the 
low  bars,  and  flew  only  at  near  approach. 
There  were  many  varieties  of  bitterns,  one 
kind  with  a  purple  back  and  white  breast. 
They  were  very  tame  and  sat  on  the  over- 
hanging branches,  uttering  dismal  croaks. 
Everywhere  was  the  flash  and  glitter  and 

56 


WILDERNESS    LIFE 

gleam  of  birds  in  flight,  up  and  down  and 
across  the  river. 

Hal  took  his  camera  and  tried  to  get  pictures. 

The  strangeness,  beauty,  and  life  of  this 
jungle  stream  absorbed  Ken.  He  did  not 
take  his  guns  from  their  cases.  The  water 
was  bright  green  and  very  deep;  here  and 
there  were  the  swirls  of  playing  fish.  The 
banks  were  high  and  densely  covered  with  a 
luxuriant  foliage.  Huge  cypress-trees,  moss- 
covered,  leaned  half-way  across  the  river. 
Giant  gray-barked  ceibas  spread  long  branches 
thickly  tufted  with  aloes,  orchids,  and  other 
jungle  parasites.  Palm-trees  lifted  slender 
stems  and  graceful  broad-leaved  heads. 
Clumps  of  bamboo  spread  an  enormous  green 
arch  out  over  the  banks.  These  bamboo- 
trees  were  particularly  beautiful  to  Ken. 
A  hundred  yellow,  black-circled  stems  grew 
out  of  the  ground  close  together,  and  as  they 
rose  high  they  gracefully  leaned  their  bodies 
and  drooped  their  tips.  The  leaves  were 
arrowy,  exquisite  in  their  fineness. 

He  looked  up  the  long  river-lane,  bright 
in  the  sun,  dark  and  still  under  the  moss- 
veiled  cypresses,  at  the  turning  vines  and 
blossoming  creepers,  at  the  changeful  web 
of  moving  birds,  and  indulged  to  the  fullest 
that  haunting  sense  for  wild  places. 

57 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

"Chicalocki,"  said  Pepe,  suddenly. 

A  flock  of  long- tailed  birds,  resembling 
the  pheasant  in  body,  was  sailing  across  the 
river.  Again  George  made  a  dive  for  a  gun. 
This  one  was  a  sixteen-gage  and  worn  out. 
He  shot  twice  at  the  birds  on  the  wing. 
Then  Pepe  rowed  under  the  overhanging 
branches,  and  George  killed  three  chicalocki 
with  his  rifle.  They  were  olive  green  in 
color,  and  the  long  tail  had  a  brownish  cast. 
Heavy  and  plump,  they  promised  fine  eating. 

"Pato  real!"  yelled  Pepe,  pointing  excited- 
ly up  the  river. 

Several  black  fowl,  as  large  as  geese,  hove 
in  sight,  flying  pretty  low.  Ken  caught  a 
glimpse  of  wide,  white-crested  wings,  and 
knew  then  that  these  were  the  birds  he  had 
seen. 

"Load  up  and  get  ready,"  he  said  to 
George.  "They're  coming  fast — shoot  ahead 
of  them." 

How  swift  and  powerful  they  were  on  the 
wing!  They  swooped  up  when  they  saw  the 
boat,  and  offered  a  splendid  target.  The 
little  sixteen-gage  rang  out.  Ken  heard  the 
shot  strike.  The  leader  stopped  in  midair, 
dipped,  and  plunged  with  a  sounding  splash. 
Ken  picked  him  up  and  found  him  to  be  most 
beautiful,  and  as  large  and  heavy  as  a  goose. 


WILDERNESS    LIFE 

His  black  feathers  shone  with  the  latent  green 
luster  of  an  opal,  and  the  pure  white  of  the 
shoulder  of  the  wings  made  a  remarkable 
contrast. 

"George,  we've  got  enough  meat  for  to-day, 
more  than  we  can  use.  Don't  shoot  any 
more,"  said  Ken. 

Pepe  resumed  rowing,  and  Ken  told  him 
to  keep  under  the  overhanging  branches  and 
to  row  without  splashing.  He  was  skilled 
in  the  use  of  the  oars,  so  the  boat  glided  along 
silently.  Ken  felt  he  was  rewarded  for  this 
stealth.  Birds  of  rare  and  brilliant  plumage 
flitted  among  the  branches.  There  was  one, 
a  long,  slender  bird,  gold  and  black  with  a 
white  ring  round  its  neck.  There  were  little 
yellow-breasted  kingfishers  no  larger  than 
a  wren,  and  great  red-breasted  kingfishers 
with  blue  backs  and  tufted  heads.  The  boat 
passed  under  a  leaning  ceiba-tree  that  was 
covered  with  orchids.  Ken  saw  the  slim, 
sharp  head  of  a  snake  dart  from  among  the 
leaves.  His  neck  was  as  thick  as  Ken's  wrist. 

"What  kind  of  a  snake,  Pepe?"  whispered 
Ken,  as  he  fingered  the  trigger  of  George's 
gun.  But  Pepe  did  not  see  the  snake,  and 
then  Ken  thought  better  of  disturbing  the 
silence  with  a  gunshot.  He  was  reminded, 
however,  that  the  Texan  had  told  him  of 

59 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

snakes  in  this  jungle,  some  of  which  measured 
more  than  fifteen  feet  and  were  as  large  as  a 
man's  leg. 

Most  of  the  way  the  bank  was  too  high 
and  steep  and  overgrown  for  any  animal  to 
get  down  to  the  water.  Still  there  were  dry 
gullies,  or  arroyos,  every  few  hundred  yards, 
and  these  showed  the  tracks  of  animals,  but 
Pepe  could  not  tell  what  species  from  the 
boat.  Often  Ken  heard  the  pattering  of 
hard  feet,  and  then  he  would  see  a  little 
cloud  of  dust  in  one  of  these  drinking-places. 
So  he  cautioned  Pepe  to  row  slower  and  closer 
in  to  the  bank. 

"Look  there!  lemme  out!"  whispered  Hal, 
and  he  seemed  to  be  on  the  point  of  jumping 
overboard. 

"Coons,"  said  George.  "Oh,  a  lot  of 
them.  There — some  young  ones." 

Ken  saw  that  they  had  come  abruptly 
upon  a  band  of  racoons,  not  less  than  thirty 
in  number,  some  big,  some  little,  and  a  few 
like  tiny  balls  of  fur,  and  all  had  long  white- 
ringed  tails.  What  a  scampering  the  big 
ones  set  up !  The  little  ones  were  frightened, 
and  the  smallest  so  tame  they  scarcely  made 
any  effort  to  escape.  Pepe  swung  the  boat 
in  to  the  bank,  and  reaching  out  he  caught  a 
baby  racoon  and  handed  it  to  Hal. 

60 


WILDERNESS    LIFE 

"Whoop!  We'll  catch  things  and  tame 
them,"  exclaimed  Hal,  much  delighted,  and 
he  proceeded  to  tie  the  little  racoon  under 
the  seat. 

"Sure,  we'll  get  a  whole  menagerie,"  said 
George. 

So  they  went  on  up-stream.  Often  Ken 
motioned  Pepe  to  stop  in  dark,  cool  places 
under  the  golden-green  canopy  of  bamboos. 
He  was  as  much  fascinated  by  the  beautiful 
foliage  and  tree  growths  as  by  the  wild  life. 
Hal  appeared  more  taken  up  with  the  flut- 
tering of  birds  in  the  thick  jungle,  rustlings, 
and  soft,  stealthy  steps.  Then  as  they  moved 
on  Ken  whispered  and  pointed  out  a  black 
animal  vanishing  in  the  thicket.  Three  times 
he  caught  sight  of  a  spotted  form  slipping 
away  in  the  shade.  George  saw  it  the  last 
time,  and  whispered:  "Tiger-cat!  Let's  get 
him." 

"What's  that,  Ken,  a  kind  of  a  wildcat?" 
asked  Hal. 

"Yes."  Ken  took  George's  .32-caliber  and 
tried  to  find  a  way  up  the  bank.  There  was 
no  place  to  climb  up  unless  he  dragged  him- 
self up  branches  of  trees  or  drooping  bam- 
boos, and  this  he  did  not  care  to  attempt  en- 
cumbered with  a  rifle.  Only  here  and  there 
could  he  see  over  the  matted  roots  and  creepers. 

61 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

Then  the  sound  of  rapids  put  hunting  out  of 
his  mind. 

"Boys,  we've  got  Micas  Falls  to  reach," 
he  said,  and  told  Pepe  to  row  on. 

The  long  stretch  of  deep  river  ended  in  a 
wide,  shallow,  noisy  rapid.  Fir-trees  lined 
the  banks.  The  palms,  cypresses,  bamboos, 
and  the  flowery,  mossy  growths  were  not  here 
in  evidence.  Thickly  wooded  hills  rose  on 
each  side.  The  jungle  looked  sear  and  yellow. 

The  boys  began  to  wade  up  the  rapid, 
and  before  they  had  reached  the  head  of  it 
Pepe  yelled  and  jumped  back  from  where  he 
was  wading  at  the  bow.  He  took  an  oar  and 
began  to  punch  at  something  in  the  water, 
at  the  same  time  calling  out. 

"Crocodile!"  cried  George,  and  he  climbed 
in  the  boat.  Hal  was  not  slow  in  following 
suit.  Then  Ken  saw  Pepe  hitting  a  small 
crocodile,  which  lashed  out  with  its  tail  and 
disappeared. 

"  Come  out  of  there,"  called  Ken  to  the  boys. 
"We  can't  pull  you  up-stream." 

"Say,  I  don't  want  to  step  on  one  of  those 
ugly  brutes,"  protested  Hal. 

"Look  sharp,  then.     Come  out." 

Above  the  rapid  extended  a  quarter-mile 
stretch  where  Pepe  could  row,  and  beyond 
that  another  long  rapid.  When  the  boys 

62 


WILDERNESS   LIFE 

had  waded  up  that  it  was  only  to  come  to 
another.  It  began  to  be  hard  work.  But 
Ken  kept  the  boys  buckled  down,  and  they 
made  fair  progress.  They  pulled  up  through 
eighteen  rapids,  and  covered  distance  that 
Ken  estimated  to  be  about  ten  miles.  The 
blue  mountain  loomed  closer  and  higher,  yet 
Ken  began  to  have  doubts  of  reaching  Micas 
Falls  that  day. 

Moreover,  as  they  ascended  the  stream, 
the  rapids  grew  rougher. 

"It  '11  be  great  coming  down,"  panted  Hal. 

Finally  they  reached  a  rapid  which  had  long 
dinned  in  Ken's  ears.  All  the  water  in  the 
river  rushed  down  on  the  right-hand  side 
through  a  channel  scarcely  twenty  feet  wide. 
It  was  deep  and  swift.  With  the  aid  of  ropes, 
and  by  dint  of  much  hard  wading  and  pulling, 
the  boys  got  the  boat  up.  A  little  farther 
on  was  another  bothersome  rapid.  At  last 
they  came  to  a  succession  of  falls,  steps  in  the 
river,  that  barred  farther  advance  up-stream. 

Here  Ken  climbed  up  on  the  bank,  to  find 
the  country  hilly  and  open,  with  patches  of 
jungle  and  palm  groves  leading  up  to  the 
mountains.  Then  he  caught  a  glint  of  Micas 
Falls,  and  decided  that  it  would  be  impossible 
to  get  there.  He  made  what  observations 
he  could,  and  returned  to  camp. 

63 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

"Boys,  here's  where  we  stop,"  said  Ken. 
"It  '11  be  all  down-stream  now,  and  I'm  glad." 

There  was  no  doubt  that  the  boys  were 
equally  glad.  They  made  camp  on  a 
grassy  bench  above  a  foam  -  flecked  pool. 
Ken  left  the  others  to  get  things  in  shape  for 
supper,  and,  taking  his  camera,  he  hurried  off 
to  try  to  get  a  picture  of  Micas  Falls.  He 
found  open  places  and  by-paths  through  the 
brushy  forest.  He  saw  evidences  of  forest 
fire,  and  then  knew  what  had  ruined  that  part 
of  the  jungle.  There  were  no  birds.  It  was 
farther  than  he  had  estimated  to  the  foothill 
he  had  marked,  but,  loath  to  give  up,  he  kept 
on  and  finally  reached  a  steep,  thorny  ascent. 
Going  up  he  nearly  suffocated  with  heat. 
He  felt  rewarded  for  his  exertions  when  he 
saw  Micas  Falls  glistening  in  the  distance. 
It  was  like  a  string  of  green  fans  connected 
by  silver  ribbons.  He  remained  there  watch- 
ing it  while  the  sun  set  in  the  golden  notch 
between  the  mountains. 

On  the  way  back  to  camp  he  waded  through 
a  flat  overgrown  with  coarse  grass  and  bushes. 
Here  he  jumped  a  herd  of  deer,  eight  in  num- 
ber. These  small,  sleek,  gray  deer  appeared 
tame,  and  if  there  had  been  sufficient  light,' 
Ken  would  have  photographed  them.  It 
cost  him  an  effort  to  decide  not  to  fetch  his 

64 


WILDERNESS    LIFE 

rifle,  but  as  he  had  meat  enough  in  camp 
there  was  nothing  to  do  except  let  the  deer  go. 

When  he  got  back  to  the  river  Pepe  grinned 
at  him,  and,  pointing  to  little  red  specks  on 
his  shirt,  he  said: 

"Pinilius." 

"Aha!  the  ticks!"  exclaimed  Ken. 

They  were  exceedingly  small,  not  to  be 
seen  without  close  scrutiny.  They  could  not 
be  brushed  off,  so  Ken  began  laboriously  to 
pick  them  off.  Pepe  and  George  laughed, 
and  Hal  appeared  to  derive  some  sort  of  en- 
joyment from  the  incident. 

"Say,  these  ticks  don't  bother  me  any,"  de- 
clared Ken. 

Pepe  grunted;  and  George  called  out,  "Just 
wait  till  you  get  the  big  fellows — the  gar- 
rapatoes."  N 

It  developed  presently  that  the  grass  and 
bushes  on  the  camp-site  contained  millions 
of  the  ticks.  Ken  found  several  of  the  larger 
ticks — almost  the  size  of  his  little  finger-nail — 
but  he  did  not  get  bitten.  Pepe  and  George, 
however,  had  no  such  good  luck,  as  was  mani- 
fested at  different  times.  By  the  time  they 
had  cut  down  the  bushes  and  carried  in 
a  stock  of  fire-wood,  both  were  covered  with 
the  little  pests.  Hal  found  a  spot  where 
there  appeared  to  be  none,  and  here  he  stayed. 

65 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

Pepe  and  George  had  the  bad  habit  of  smok- 
ing, and  Ken  saw  them  burning  the  ticks  off 
shirt-sleeves  and  trousers-legs,  using  the  fiery 
end  of  their  cigarettes.  This  feat  did  not 
puzzle  Ken  anything  like  the  one  where  they 
held  the  red  point  of  the  cigarettes  close  to 
their  naked  flesh.  Ken,  and  Hal,  too,  had 
to  see  that  performance  at  close  range. 

"Why  do  you  do  that?"  asked  Ken. 

"Popping  ticks,"  replied  George.  He  and 
Pepe  were  as  sober  as  judges. 

The  fact  of  the  matter  was  soon  clear  to 
Ken.  The  ticks  stuck  on  as  if  glued.  When 
the  hot  end  of  the  burning  cigarette  was  held 
within  a  quarter  of  an  inch  of  them  they 
simply  blew  up,  exploded  with  a  pop.  Ken 
could  easily  distinguish  between  the  tiny  pop 
of  an  exploding  pinilius  and  the  heavier  pop 
of  a  garrapato. 

"But,  boy,  while  you're  taking  time  to  do 
that,  half  a  dozen  other  ticks  can  bite  you!" 
exclaimed  Ken. 

"Sure  they  can,"  replied  George.  "But 
if  they  get  on  me  111  kill  'em.  I  don't-  mind 
the  little  ones — it's  the  big  boys  I  hate." 

On  the  other  hand,  Pete  seemed  to  mind 
most  the  pinilius. 

"Say,  from  now  on  you  fellows  will  be 
Garrapato  George  and  Pinilius  Pepe." 

66 


WILDERNESS   LIFE 

"Pretty  soon  you'll  laugh  on  the  other 
side  of  your  face,"  said  George.  "In  three 
days  you'll  be  popping  ticks  yourself." 

Just  then  Hal  let  out  a  yell  and  began  to 
hunt  for  a  tick  that  had  bit  him.  If  there 
was  anything  that  could  bother  Hal  Ward 
it  was  a  crawling  bug  of  some  kind. 

"I'll  have  to  christen  you  too,  brother," 
said  Ken,  gurgling  with  mirth.  "A  very 
felicitous  name — Hollering  Hal!" 

Despite  the  humor  of  the  thing,  Ken  really 
saw  its  serious  side.  When  he  found  the 
grass  under  his  feet  alive  with  ticks  he  cast 
about  in  his  mind  for  some  way  to  get  rid 
of  them.  And  he  hit  upon  a  remedy.  On  the 
ridge  above  the  bench  was  a  palm-tree,  and 
under  it  were  many  dead  palm  leaves.  These 
were  large  in  size,  had  long  stems,  and  were 
as  dry  as  tinder.  Ken  lighted  one,  and  it 
made  a  flaming  hot  torch.  It  did  not  take 
him  long  to  scorch  all  the  ticks  near  that 
camp. 

The  boys  had  supper  and  enjoyed  it  hugely. 
The  scene  went  well  with  the  camp-fire  and 
game-dinner.  They  gazed  out  over  the  foam- 
ing pool,  the  brawling  rapids,  to  the  tuft- 
ed palm-trees,  and  above  them  the  dark- 
blue  mountain.  At  dusk  Hal  and  George 
were  so  tired  they  went  to  bed  and  at  once 

67 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

dropped   into   slumber.     Pepe   sat    smoking 
before  the  slumbering  fire. 

And  Ken  chose  that  quiet  hour  to  begin 
the  map  of  the  river,  and  to  set  down  in  his 
note-book  his  observations  on  the  mountains 
and  in  the  valley,  and  what  he  had  seen  that 
day  of  bird,  animal,  and  plant  life  in  the 
jungle. 


VII 

RUNNING  THE   RAPIDS 

SOME  time  in  the  night  a  yell  awakened 
Ken.  He  sat  up,  clutching  his  revolver. 
The  white  moonlight  made  all  as  clear  as 
day.  Hal  lay  deep  in  slumber.  George  was 
raising  himself,  half  aroused.  But  Pepe  was 
gone. 

Ken  heard  a  thrashing  about  outside. 
Leaping  up  he  ran  out,  and  was  frightened  to 
see  Pepe  beating  and  clawing  and  tearing 
at  himself  like  a  man  possessed  of  demons. 

"Pepe,  what's  wrong?"  shouted  Ken. 

It  seemed  that  Pepe  only  grew  more  violent 
in  his  wrestling  about.  Then  Ken  was  sure 
Pepe  had  been  stung  by  a  scorpion  or  bitten  by 
a  snake. 

But  he  was  dumfounded  to  see  George 
bound  like  an  apparition  out  of  the  tent  and 
begin  evolutions  that  made  Pepe's  look  slow. 

"Hey,  what's  wrong  with  you  jumping- 
jacks?"  yelled  Ken. 

George  was  as  grimly  silent  as  an  Indian 
69 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

running  the  gantlet,  but  Ken  thought  it 
doubtful  if  any  Indian  ever  slapped  and  tore 
at  his  body  in  George's  frantic  manner.  To 
add  to  the  mystery  Hal  suddenly  popped  out 
of  the  tent.  He  was  yelling  in  a  way  to  do 
justice  to  the  name  Ken  had  lately  given  him, 
and,  as  for  wild  and  whirling  antics,  his  were 
simply  marvelous. 

"Good  land!"  ejaculated  Ken.  Had  the 
boys  all  gone  mad?  Despite  his  alarm,  Ken 
had  to  roar  with  laughter  at  those  three 
dancing  figures  in  the  moonlight.  A  rush  of 
ideas  went  through  Ken's  confused  mind. 
And  the  last  prompted  him  to  look  in  the 
tent. 

He  saw  a  wide  bar  of  black  crossing  the 
moonlit  ground,  the  grass,  and  the  blankets. 
This  bar  moved.  It  was  alive.  Bending 
low  Ken  descried  that  it  was  made  by  ants. 
An  army  of  jungle  ants  on  a  march!  They 
had  come  in  a  straight  line  along  the  base  of 
the  little  hill  and  their  passageway  led  under 
the  canvas.  Pepe  happened  to  be  the  first 
in  line,  and  they  had  surged  over  him.  As 
he  had  awakened,  and  jumped  up  of  course, 
the  ants  had  begun  to  bite.  The  same  in 
turn  happened  to  George  and  then  Hal. 

Ken  was  immensely  relieved,  and  had  his 
laugh  out.  The  stream  of  ants  moved  stead- 

70 


RUNNING   THE   RAPIDS* 

ily  and  quite  rapidly,  and  soon  passed  from 
sight.  By  this  time  Pepe  and  the  boys  had 
threshed  themselves  free  of  ants  and  into 
some  degree  of  composure. 

"Say,  you  nightmare  fellows!  Come  back 
to  bed,"  said  Ken.  "Any  one  would  think 
something  had  really  happened  to  you." 

Pepe  snorted,  which  made  Ken  think  the 
native  understood  something  of  English.  And 
the  boys  grumbled  loudly. 

"Ants!  Aiits  as  big  as  wasps!  They  bit 
worse  than  helgramites,"  declared  Hal.  "Oh, 
they  missed  you.  You  always  are  lucky. 
I'm  not  afraid  of  all  the  old  jaguars  in  this 
jungle.  But  I  can't  stand  biting,  crawling 
bugs.  I  wish  you  hadn't  made  me  come  on 
this  darn  trip." 

"Ha!    Ha!"  laughed  Ken. 

"Just  wait,  Hal,"  put  in  George,  grimly. 
"Just  wait.  It's  coming  to  him!" 

The  boys  slept  well  the  remainder  of  the 
night  and,  owing  to  the  break  in  their  rest, 
did  not  awaken  early.  The  sun  shone  hot 
when  Ken  rolled  out;  a  creamy  mist  was 
dissolving  over  the  curve  of  the  mountain - 
range;  parrots  were  screeching  in  the  near-by 
trees. 

After  breakfast  Ken  set  about  packing  the 
boat  as  it  had  been  done  the  day  before. 

6  71 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

"I  think  we'll  do  well  to  leave  the  trunk 
in  the  boat  after  this,  unless  we  find  a  place 
where  we  want  to  make  a  permanent  camp 
for  a  while,"  said  Ken. 

Before  departing  he  carefully  looked  over 
the  ground  to  see  that  nothing  was  left,  and 
espied  a  heavy  fish-line  which  George  had 
baited,  set,  and  forgotten. 

"Hey,  George,  pull  up  your  trot-line. 
It  looks  pretty  much  stretched  to  me.  Maybe 
you've  got  a  fish." 

Ken  happened  to  be  busy  at  the  boat  when 
George  started  to  take  in  the  line.  An  ex- 
clamation from  Pepe,  George's  yell,  and  a  loud 
splash  made  Ken  jump  up  in  double-quick 
time.  Hal  also  came  running. 

George  was  staggering  on  the  bank,  leaning 
back  hard  on  the  heavy  line.  A  long,  angry 
swirl  in  the  pool  told  of  a  powerful  fish. 
It  was  likely  to  pull  George  in. 

"Let  go  the  line!"  yelled  Ken. 

But  George  was  not  letting  go  of  any  fish- 
lines.  He  yelled  for  Pepe,  and  went  down 
on  his  knees  before  Pepe  got  to  him.  Both 
then  pulled  on  the  line.  The  fish,  or  what- 
ever it  was  at  the  other  end,  gave  a  mighty 
jerk  that  almost  dragged  the  two  off  the  bank. 

"Play  him,  play  him!"  shouted  Ken. 
"You've  got  plenty  of  line.  Give  him  some." 

72 


RUNNING   THE    RAPIDS 

Hal  now  added  his  weight  and  strength, 
and  the  three  of  them,  unmindful  of  Ken's 
advice,  hauled  back  with  might  and  main. 
The  line  parted  and  they  sprawled  on  the 
grass. 

"What  a  sockdologer!"  exclaimed  Hal. 

"I  had  that  hook  baited  with  a  big  piece 
of  duck  meat,"  said  George.  "We  must  have 
been  hooked  to  a  crocodile.  Things  are  hap- 
pening to  us." 

"Yes,  so  I've  noticed,"  replied  Ken,  dryly. 
"But  if  you  fellows  hadn't  pulled  so  hard  you 
might  have  landed  that  thing,  whatever  it 
was.  All  aboard  now.  We  must  be  on  the 
move — we  don't  know  what  we  have  before 
us." 

When  they  got  into  the  boat  Ken  took  the 
oars,  much  to  Pepe's  surprise.  It  was  neces- 
sary to  explain  to  him  that  Ken  would  handle 
the  boat  in  swift  water.  They  shoved  off, 
and  Ken  sent  one  regretful  glance  up  the  river, 
at  the  shady  aisle  between  the  green  banks,  at 
the  white  rapids,  and  the  great  colored  dome 
of  the  mountain.  He  almost  hesitated,  for 
he  desired  to  see  more  of  that  jungle-covered 
mountain.  But  something  already  warned 
Ken  to  lose  no  time  in  the  trip  down  the  Santa 
Rosa.  There  did  not  seem  to  be  any  reason 
for  hurry,  yet  he  felt  it  necessary.  But  he 

73 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

asked  Pepe  many  questions  and  kept  George 
busy  interpreting  names  of  trees  and  flowers 
and  wild  creatures. 

Going  down-stream  on  any  river,  mostly, 
would  have  been  pleasure,  but  drifting  on  the 
swift  current  of  the  Santa  Rosa  and  rowing 
under  the  wonderful  moss-bearded  cypresses 
was  almost  like  a  dream.  It  was  too  beauti- 
ful to  seem  real.  The  smooth  stretch  before 
the  first  rapid  was  short,  however,  and  then 
all  Ken's  attention  had  to  be  given  to  the 
handling  of  the  boat.  He  saw  that  George 
and  Pepe  both  expected  to  get  out  and  wade 
down  the  rapids  as  they  had  waded  up. 
He  had  a  surprise  in  store  for  them.  The 
rapids  that  he  could  not  shoot  would  have  to 
be  pretty  bad. 

"You're  getting  close,"  shouted  George, 
warningly. 

With  two  sweeps  of  the  oars  Ken  turned 
the  boat  stern  first  down-stream,  then  dipped 
on  the  low  green  incline,  and  sailed  down 
toward  the  waves.  They  struck  the  first  wave 
with  a  shock,  and  the  water  flew  all  over  the 
boys.  Pepe  was  tremendously  excited;  he 
yelled  and  made  wild  motions  with  his  hands; 
George  looked  a  little  frightened.  Hal  en- 
joyed it.  Whatever  the  rapid  appeared  to 
them,  it  was  magnificent  to  Ken ;  and  it  was 

74 


RUNNING   THE    RAPIDS 

play  to  manage  the  boat  in  such  water.  A 
little  pull  on  one  oar  and  then  on  the  other 
kept  the  stern  straight  down-stream.  The 
channel  he  could  make  out  a  long  way  ahead. 
He  amused  himself  by  watching  George  and 
Pepe.  There  were  stones  in  the  channel, 
and  the  water  rose  angrily  abcut  them.  A 
glance  was  enough  to  tell  that  he  could  float 
over  these  without  striking.  But  the  boys 
thought  they  were  going  to  hit  every  stone, 
and  were  uneasy  all  the  time.  Twice  he  had 
to  work  to  pass  ledges  and  sunken  trees  upon 
which  the  current  bore  down  hard.  When 
Ken  neared  one  of  these  he  dipped  the  oars 
and  pulled  back  to  stop  or  lessen  the  momen- 
tam;  then  a  stroke  turned  the  boat  half 
broadside  to  the  current.  That  would  force 
it  to  one  side,  and  another  stroke  would  turn 
the  boat  straight.  At  the  bottom  of  this 
rapid  they  encountered  a  long  triangle  of 
choppy  waves  that  they  bumped  and  splashed 
over.  They  came  through  with  nothing  wet 
but  the  raised  flap  of  canvas  in  the  stern. 

Pepe  regarded  Ken  with  admiring  eyes, 
and  called  him  grande  mozo. 

"  Shooting  rapids  is  great  sport,"  proclaimed 
George. 

They  drifted  through  several  little  rifts, 
and  then  stopped  at  the  head  of  the  narrow 

75 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

chute  that  had  been  such  a  stumbling-block 
on  the  way  up.  Looked  at  from  above,  this 
long,  narrow  channel,  with  several  S  curves, 
was  a  fascinating  bit  of  water  for  a  canoeist. 
It  tempted  Ken  to  shoot  it  even  with  the  boat. 
But  he  remembered  the  four-foot  waves  at 
the  bottom,  and  besides  he  resented  the  im- 
portunity of  the  spirit  of  daring  so  early  in 
the  game.  Risk,  and  perhaps  peril,  would 
come  soon  enough.  So  he  decided  to  walk 
along  the  shore  and  float  the  boat  through 
with  a  rope. 

The  thing  looked  a  good  deal  easier  than  it 
turned  out  to  be.  Half-way  through,  at  the 
narrowest  point  and  most  abrupt  curve, 
Pepe  misunderstood  directions  and  pulled 
hard  on  the  bow-rope,  when  he  should  have 
let  it  slack. 

The  boat  swung  in,  nearly  smashing  Ken 
against  the  bank,  and  the  sweeping  current 
began  to  swell  dangerously  near  the  gunwale. 

"Let  go!  Let  go!"  yelled  Ken.  "George, 
make  him  let  go!" 

But  George,  who  was  trying  to  get  the  rope 
out  of  Pepe's  muscular  hands,  suddenly  made 
a  dive  for  his  rifle. 

"Deer!  deer!"  he  cried,  hurriedly  throwing 
a  shell  into  the  chamber.  He  shot  down- 
stream, and  Ken,  looking  that  way,  saw  several 

76 


RUNNING   THE    RAPIDS 

deer  under  the  firs  on  a  rocky  flat.  George 
shot  three  more  times,  and  the  bullets  went 
"spinging"  into  the  trees.  The  deer  bounded 
out  of  sight. 

When  Ken  turned  again,  water  was  roaring 
into  the  boat.  He  was  being  pressed  harder 
into  the  bank,  and  he  saw  disaster  ahead. 

"  Loosen  the  rope — tell  him,  George,"  yelled 
Ken. 

Pepe  only  pulled  the  harder. 

"Quick,  or  we're  ruined,"  cried  Ken. 

George  shouted  in  Spanish,  and  Pepe 
promptly  dropped  the  rope  in  the  water. 
That  was  the  worst  thing  he  could  have  done. 

"Grab  the  rope!"  ordered  Ken,  wildly. 
"Grab  the  bow!  Don't  let  it  swing  out !  Hal!" 

Before  either  boy  could  reach  it  the  bow 
swung  out  into  the  current.  Ken  was  not 
only  helpless,  but  in  a  dangerous  position. 
He  struggled  to  get  out  from  where  the  swing- 
ing stern  was  wedging  him  into  the  bank, 
but  could  not  budge.  Fearing  that  all  the 
outfit  would  be  lost  in  the  river,  he  held 
on  to  the  boat  and  called  for  some  one  to 
catch  the  rope. 

George  pushed  Pepe  head  first  into  the  swift 
current.  Pepe  came  up,  caught  the  rope, 
and  then  went  under  again.  The  boat  swung 
rou*xi  and,  now  half  full  of  water,  got  away 

77 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

from  Ken.  It  gathered  headway.  Ken  leaped 
out  on  the  ledge  and  ran  along  with  the  boat. 
It  careened  round  the  bad  curve  and  shot 
down-stream.  Pepe  was  still  under  water. 

"He's  drowned!  He's  drowned!"  cried 
George. 

Hal  took  a  header  right  off  the  ledge,  came 
up,  and  swam  with  a  few  sharp  strokes  to  the 
drifting  boat.  He  gained  the  bow,  grasped  it, 
and  then  pulled  on  the  rope. 

Ken  had  a  sickening  feeling  that  Pepe  might 
be  drowned.  Suddenly  Pepe  appeared  like 
a  brown  porpoise.  He  was  touching  bottom 
in  places  and  holding  back  on  the  rope. 
Then  the  current  rolled  him  over  and  over. 
The  boat  drifted  back  of  a  rocky  point  into 
shallow  water.  Hal  gave  a  haul  that  helped 
to  swing  it  out  of  the  dangerous  current. 
Then  Pepe  came  up,  and  he,  too,  pulled  hard. 
Just  as  Ken  plunged  in  the  boat  sank  in  two 
feet  of  water.  Ken's  grip,  containing  camera, 
films,  and  other  perishable  goods,  was  on  top, 
and  he  got  it  just  in  time.  He  threw  it  out 
on  the  rocks.  Then  together  the  boys  lifted 
the  boat  and  hauled  the  bow  well  up  on  the 
shore. 

"Pretty  lucky!"  exclaimed  Ken,  as  he 
flopped  down. 

"Doggone  it!"  yelled  Hal,  suddenly.  And 
78 


RUNNING   THE    RAPIDS 

he  dove  for  the  boat,  and  splashed  round 
in  the  water  under  his  seat,  to  bring  forth  a 
very  limp  and  drenched  little  racoon. 

"Good!  he's  all  right,"  said  Ken. 

Pepe  said  "Mucho  malo,"  and  pointed 
to  his  shins,  which  bore  several  large  bumps 
from  contact  with  the  rocks  in  the  channel. 

"I  should  say  mucha  malo,"  growled 
George. 

He  jerked  open  his  grip,  and,  throwing  out 
articles  of  wet  clothing — for  which  he  had  no 
concern — he  gazed  in  dismay  at  his  whole 
store  of  cigarettes  wet  by  the  water. 

"So  that's  all  you  care  for,"  said  Ken, 
severely.  'Young  man,  I'll  have  something 
to  say  to  you  presently.  All  hands  now  to 
unpack  the  boat." 

Fortunately  nothing  had  been  earned  away. 
That  part  of  the  supplies  which  would  have 
been  affected  by  water  was  packed  in  tin  cases, 
and  so  suffered  no  damage.  The  ammunition 
was  waterproof,  Ken's  Parker  hammerless 
and  his  351  au  tomatic  rifle  were  full  of  water, 
and  so  were  George's  guns  and  Hal's.  While 
they  took  their  weapons  apart,  wiped  them, 
and  laid  them  in  the  sun,  Pepe  spread  out  the 
rest  of  the  things  and  then  baled  out  the  boat. 
The  sun  was  so  hot  that  everything  dried 
quickly  and  was  not  any  the  worse  for  the 

79 


KEN   WARD  IN  THE   JUNGLE 

wetting.  The  boys  lost  scarcely  an  hour  by 
the  accident.  Before  the  start  Ken  took 
George  and  Pepe  to  task,  and  when  he  finished 
they  were  both  very  sober  and  quiet. 

Ken  observed,  however,  that  by  the  time 
they  had  run  the  next  rapid  they  were  en- 
joying themselves  again.  Then  came  a  long 
succession  of  rapids  which  Ken  shot  without 
anything  approaching  a  mishap.  When  they 
drifted  into  the  level  stretch  Pepe  relieved 
him  at  the  oars.  They  glided  down-stream 
under  the  drooping  bamboo,  under  the  silken 
streamers  of  silvery  moss,  under  the  dark,  cool 
bowers  of  matted  vine  and  blossoming  creep- 
ers. And  as  they  passed  this  time  the  jungle 
silence  awoke  to  the  crack  of  George's  .22 
and  the  discordant  cry  of  river  fowl.  Ken's 
guns  were  both  at  hand,  and  the  rifle  was 
loaded,  but  he  did  not  use  either.  He  con- 
tented himself  with  snapping  a  picture  here 
and  there  and  watching  the  bamboo  thickets 
and  the  mouths  of  the  little  dry  ravines. 

That  ride  was  again  so  interesting,  so  full 
of  sound  and  action  and  color,  that  it  seemed 
a  very  short  one.  The  murmur  of  the  water 
on  the  rocks  told  Ken  that  it  was  time  to 
change  seats  with  Pepe.  They  drifted  down 
two  short  rapids,  and  then  came  to  the  gravelly 
channels  between  the  islands  noted  on  the 
1  80 


RUNNING   THE   RAPIDS 

way  up.  The  water  was  shallow  down  these 
rippling  channels;  and,  fearing  they  might 
strike  a  stone,  Ken  tumbled  out  over  the  bow 
and,  wading  slowly,  let  the  boat  down  to 
still  water  again.  He  was  about  to  get  in 
when  he  espied  what  he  thought  was  an 
alligator  lying  along  a  log  near  the  river. 
He  pointed  it  out  to  Pepe. 

That  worthy  yelled  gleefully  in  Mexican, 
and  reached  for  his  machete. 

"Iguana!"  exclaimed  George.  "I've  heard 
it's  good  to  eat." 

The  reptile  had  a  body  about  four  feet  long 
and  a  very  long  tail.  Its  color  was  a  steely 
blue-black  on  top,  and  it  had  a  blunt,  rounded 
head. 

Pepe  slipped  out  of  the  boat  and  began 
to  wade  ashore.  When  the  iguana  raised 
itself  on  short,  stumpy  legs  George  shot  at 
it,  and  missed,  as  usual.  But  he  effectually 
frightened  the  reptile,  which  started  to  climb 
the  bank  with  much  nimbleness.  Pepe  began 
to  run,  brandishing  his  long  machete.  George 
plunged  into  the  water  in  hot  pursuit,  and  then 
Hal  yielded  to  the  call  of  the  chase.  Pepe 
reached  the  iguana  before  it  got  up  the  bank, 
aimed  a  mighty  blow  with  his  machete,  and 
would  surely  have  cut  the  reptile  in  two 
pieces  if  the  blade  had  not  caught  on  an  over- 
Si 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

hanging  branch.  Then  Pepe  fell  up  the  bank 
and  barely  grasped  the  tail  of  the  iguana.  Pepe 
hauled  back,  and  Pepe  was  powerful.  The 
frantic  creature  dug  its  feet  in  the  clay -bank 
and  held  on  for  dear  life.  But  Pepe  was  too 
strong.  He  jerked  the  iguana  down  and 
flung  it  square  upon  George,  who  had  begun 
to  climb  the  bank. 

George  uttered  an  awful  yell,  as  if  he  ex- 
pected to  be  torn  asunder,  and  rolled  down, 
with  the  reptile  on  top  of  him.  Ken  saw 
that  it  was  as  badly  frightened  as  George. 
But  Hal  did  not  see  this.  And  he  happened 
to  have  gained  a  little  sand-bar  below  the 
bank,  in  which  direction  the  iguana  started 
with  wonderful  celerity.  Then  Hal  made  a 
jump  that  Ken  believed  was  a  record. 

Remarkably  awkward  as  that  iguana  was, 
ne  could  surely  cover  ground  with  his  stumpy 
legs.  Again  he  dashed  up  the  bank.  Pepe  got 
close  enough  once  more,  and  again  he  swung 
the  machete.  The  blow  cut  off  a  piece  of  the 
long  tail,  but  the  only  effect  this  produced 
was  to  make  the  iguana  run  all  the  faster. 
It  disappeared  over  the  bank,  with  Pepe 
scrambling  close  behind.  Then  followed  a 
tremendous  crashing  in  the  dry  thickets, 
after  which  the  iguana  could  be  heard  rat- 
tling and  tearing  away  through  the  jungle. 

82 


RUNNING   THE    RAPIDS 

Pepe  returned  to  the  boat  with  the  crest- 
fallen boys,  and  he  was  much  concerned  over 
the  failure  to  catch  the  big  lizard,  which  he 
said  made  fine  eating. 

"What  next?"  asked  George,  ruefully,  and 
at  that  the  boys  all  laughed. 

"The  fun  is  we  don't  have  any  idea  what's 
coming  off,"  said  Hal. 

"Boys,  if  you  brave  hunters  had  thought 
to  throw  a  little  salt  on  that  lizard's  tail  you 
might  have  caught  him,"  added  Ken. 

Presently  Pepe  espied  another  iguana  in 
the  forks  of  a  tree,  and  he  rowed  ashore. 
This  lizard  was  only  a  small  one,  not  over  two 
feet  in  length,  but  he  created  some  excite- 
ment among  the  boys.  George  wanted  him 
to  eat,  and  Hal  wanted  the  skin  for  a  speci- 
men, and  Ken  wanted  to  see  what  the  liz- 
ard looked  like  close  at  hand.  So  they  all 
clamored  for  Pepe  to  use  caution  and  to  be 
quick. 

When  Pepe  started  up  the  tree  the  iguana 
came  down  on  the  other  side,  quick  as  a 
squirrel.  Then  they  had  a  race  round  the 
trunk  until  Pepe  ended  it  with  a  well-directed 
blow  from  his  machete. 

Hal  began  to  skin  the  iguana. 

"Ken,  I'm  going  to  have  trouble  preserving 
specimens  in  this  hot  place,"  he  said. 

83 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

1 '  Salt  and  alum  will  do  the  trick.  Remember 
what  old  Hiram  used  to  say,"  replied  Ken. 

Shortly  after  that  the  boat  passed  the  scene 
of  the  first  camp,  and  then  drifted  under  the 
railroad  bridge. 

Hal  and  George,  and  Pepe  too,  looked  as  if 
they  were  occupied  with  the  same  thought 
troubling  Ken — that  once  beyond  the  bridge 
they  would  plunge  into  the  jungle  wilderness 
from  which  there  could  be  no  turning 


VIII 

THE   FIRST  TIGER-CAT 

THE  Santa  Rosa  opened  out  wide,  and  ran 
swiftly  over  smooth  rock.  Deep  cracks,  a 
foot  or  so  wide,  crossed  the  river  diagonally, 
and  fish  darted  in  and  out. 

The  boys  had  about  half  a  mile  of  this, 
when,  after  turning  a  hilly  bend,  they  entered 
a  long  rapid.  It  was  a  wonderful  stretch 
of  river  to  look  down. 

"By  George!"  said  Ken,  as  he  stood  up  to 
survey  it.  "This  is  great!" 

"It's  all  right  now'1  added  George,  with 
his  peculiar  implication  as  to  the  future. 

"What  gets  me  is  the  feeling  of  what 
might  be  round  the  next  bend,"  said  Hal. 

This  indeed,  Ken  thought,  made  the  fas- 
cination of  such  travel.  The  water  was 
swift  and  smooth  and  shallow.  There  was 
scarcely  a  wave  or  ripple.  At  times  the  boat 
stuck  fast  on  the  flat  rock,  and  the  boys  would 
have  to  get  out  to  shove  off.  As  far  ahead  as 
Ken  could  see  extended  this  wide  slant  of 

85 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

water.  On  the  left  rose  a  thick  line  of  huge 
cypresses  all  festooned  with  gray  moss  that 
drooped  to  the  water;  on  the  right  rose  a  bare 
bluff  of  crumbling  rock.  It  looked  like  blue 
clay  baked  and  cracked  by  the  sun.  A  few 
palms  fringed  the  top. 

"Say,  we  can  beat  this,"  said  Ken,  as  for 
the  twentieth  time  the  boys  had  to  step  out 
and  shove  off  a  flat,  shallow  place.  "Two  of 
you  in  the  bow  and  Pepe  with  me  in  the  stern, 
feet  overboard." 

The  little  channels  ran  every  way,  making 
it  necessary  often  to  turn  the  boat.  Ken's 
idea  was  to  drift  along  and  keep  the  boat 
from  grounding  by  an  occasional  kick. 

"Ken  manages  to  think  of  something  once 
in  a  while,"  observed  Hal. 

Then  the  boat  drifted  down-stream,  whirling 
round  and  round.  Here  Pepe  would  drop 
his  brown  foot  in  and  kick  his  end  clear  of  a 
shallow  ledge;  there  George  would  make  a 
great  splash  when  his  turn  came  to  ward  off 
from  a  rock;  and  again  Hal  would  give  a 
greater  kick  than  was  necessary  to  the  right- 
ing of  the  boat.  Probably  Hal  was  much 
influenced  by  the  fact  that  when  he  kicked 
hard  he  destroyed  the  lazy  equilibrium  of 
his  companions. 

It  dawned  upon  Ken  that  here  was  a  new 
86 


THE    FIRST   TIGER-CAT 

and  unique  way  to  travel  down  a  river.  It 
was  different  from  anything  he  had  ever  tried 
before.  The  water  was  swift  and  seldom 
more  than  a  foot  deep,  except  in  diagonal 
cracks  that  ribbed  the  river-bed.  This  long, 
shut-in  stretch  appeared  to  be  endless.  But 
for  the  quick,  gliding  movement  of  the  boat, 
which  made  a  little  breeze,  the  heat  would 
have  been  intolerable.  When  one  of  Hal's 
kicks  made  Ken  lurch  overboard  to  sit  down 
ludicrously,  the  cool  water  sent  thrills  over 
him.  Instead  of  retaliating  on  Hal,  he  was 
glad  to  be  wet.  And  the  others,  soon  dis- 
covering the  reason  for  Ken's  remarkable 
good-nature,  went  overboard  and  lay  flat  in 
the  cool  ripples.  Then  little  clouds  of  steam 
began  to  rise  from  their  soaked  clothes. 

Ken  began  to  have  an  idea  that  he  had  been 
wise  in  boiling  the  water  which  they  drank. 
They  all  suffered  from  a  parching  thirst. 
Pepe  scooped  up  water  in  his  hand;  George 
did  likewise,  and  then  Hal. 

"You've  all  got  to  stop  that,"  ordered  Ken, 
sharply.  "No  drinking  this  water  unless  it's 
boiled." 

The  boys  obeyed,  for  the  hour,  but  they 
scon  forgot,  or  deliberately  allayed  their 
thirst  despite  Ken's  command.  Ken  himself 
found  his  thirst  unbearable.  He  squeezed 

y  87 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

the  juice  of  a  wild  lime  into  a  cup  of  water 
and  drank  that.  Then  he  insisted  on  giving 
the  boys  doses  of  quinine  and  anti-malaria 
pills,  which  treatment  he  meant  to  continue 
daily. 

Toward  the  lower  part  of  that  rapid,  where 
the  water  grew  deeper,  fish  began  to  be  so 
numerous  that  the  boys  kicked  at  many  as 
they  darted  under  the  boat.  There  were 
thousands  of  small  fish  and  some  large  ones. 
Occasionally,  as  a  big  fellow  lunged  for  a 
crack  in  the  rock,  he  would  make  the  water 
roar.  There  was  a  fish  that  resembled  a  mullet, 
and  another  that  Hal  said  was  some  kind  of 
bass  with  a  blue  tail.  Pepe  chopped  at  them 
with  his  machete;  George  whacked  with  an 
oar;  Hal  stood  up  in  the  boat  and  shot  at 
them  with  his  .22  rifle. 

"Say,  I've  got  to  see  what  that  blue- 
tailed  bass  looks  like,"  said  Ken.  "You  fel- 
lows will  never  get  one." 

Whereupon  Ken  jointed  up  a  small  rod 
and,  putting  on  a  spinner,  began  to  cast  it 
about.  He  felt  two  light  fish  hit  it.  Then 
came  a  heavy  shock  that  momentarily  checked 
the  boat.  The  water  foamed  as  the  line  cut 
through,  and  Ken  was  just  about  to  jump  off 
the  boat  to  wade  and  follow  the  fish,  when 
it  broke  the  leader. 

88 


THE    FIRST   TIGER-CAT 

"That  was  a  fine  exhibition,"  remarked  the 
critical  Hal. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you?"  retorted 
Ken,  who  was  sensitive  as  to  his  fishing 
abilities.  "It  was  a  big  fish.  He  broke 
things." 

"Haven't  you  got  a  reel  on  that  rod  and 
fifty  yards  of  line?"  queried  Hal. 

Ken  did  not  have  another  spinner,  and  he 
tried  an  artificial  minnow,  but  could  not  get 
a  strike  on  it.  He  took  Hal's  gun  and  shot 
at  several  of  the  blue-tailed  fish,  but  though 
he  made  them  jump  out  of  the  water  like 
a  real  northern  black-bass,  it  was  all  of  no 
avail. 

Then  Hal  caught  one  with  a  swoop  of  the 
landing  net.  It  was  a  beautiful  fish,  and  it 
did  have  a  blue  tail.  Pepe  could  not  name 
it,  nor  could  Ken  classify  it,  so  Hal  was  sure 
he  had  secured  a  rare  specimen. 

When  the  boat  drifted  round  a  bend  to 
enter  another  long,  wide,  shallow  rapid,  the 
boys  demurred  a  little  at  the  sameness  of 
things.  The  bare  blue  bluffs  persisted,  and 
the  line  of'  gray- veiled  cypresses  and  the 
strange  formation  of  stream-bed.  Five  more 
miles  of  drifting  under  the  glaring  sun  made 
George  and  Hal  lie  back  in  the  boat,  under 
an  improvised  sun-shade.  The  ride  was  novel 

89 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

and  strange  to  Ken  Ward,  and  did  not  pall 
upon  him,  though  he  suffered  from  the  heat 
and  glare.  He  sat  on  the  bow,  occasionally 
kicking  the  boat  off  a  rock. 

All  at  once  a  tense  whisper  from  Pepe 
brought  Ken  round  with  a  jerk.  Pepe  was 
pointing  down  along  the  right-hand  shore. 
George  heard,  and,  raising  himself,  called  ex- 
citedly: "Buck!  buck!" 

Ken  saw  a  fine  deer  leap  back  from  the  water 
and  start  to  clirnb  the  side  of  a  gully  that  in- 
dented the  bluff.  Snatching  up  the  .351 
rifle,  he  shoved  in  the  safety  catch.  The 
distance  was  far — perhaps  two  hundred  yards 
—but  without  elevating  the  sights  he  let 
drive.  A  cloud  of  dust  puffed  up  under  the 
nose  of  the  climbing  deer. 

"Wow!"  yelled  George,  and  Pepe  began  to 
jabber.  Hal  sprang  up,  nearly  falling  over- 
board, and  he  shouted:  "Give  it  to  him, 
Ken!" 

The  deer  bounded  up  a  steep,  winding  trail, 
his  white  flag  standing,  his  reddish  coat 
glistening.  Ken  fired  again.  The  bullet  sent 
up  a  white  puff  of  dust,  this  time  nearer  still. 
That  shot  gave  Ken  the  range,  and  he  pulled 
the  automatic  again — and  again.  Each  bullet 
hit  closer.  The  boys  were  now  holding  their 
breath,  watching,  waiting.  Ken  aimed  a  little 

90 


THE    FIRST   TIGER-CAT 

firmer  and  finer  at  the  space  ahead  of  the 
deer  —  for  in  that  instant  he  remembered 
what  the  old  hunter  on  Penetier  had  told 
him — and  he  pulled  the  trigger  twice. 

The  buck  plunged  down,  slipped  off  the 
trail,  and,  raising  a  cloud  of  dust,  rolled  over 
and  over.  Then  it  fell  sheer  into  space, 
and  whirled  down  to  strike  the  rock  with  a 
sodden  crash. 

It  was  Ken's  first  shooting  on  this  trip, 
and  he  could  not  help  adding  a  cry  of  ex- 
ultation to  the  yells  of  his  admiring  com- 
rades. 

"Guess  you  didn't  plug  him!"  exclaimed 
Hal  Ward,  with  flashing  eyes. 

Wading,  the  boys  pulled  the  boat  ashore. 
Pepe  pronounced  the  buck  to  be  very  large, 
but  to  Ken,  remembering  the  deer  in  Coconino 
Forest,  it  appeared  small.  If  there  was  an 
unbroken  bone  left  in  that  deer,  Ken  greatly 
missed  his  guess.  He  and  Pepe  cut  out  the 
haunch  least  crushed  by  the  fall. 

"There's  no  need  to  carry  along  more 
meat  than  we  can  use,"  said  George.  "It 
spoils  overnight.  That's  the  worst  of  this 
jungle,  I've  heard  hunters  say." 

Hal  screwed  up  his  face  in  the  manner  he 
affected  when  he  tried  to  imitat/s  old  Hiram 
Bent.  "Wai,  youngster,  I  reckon  I'm  right 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

an*  down  proud  of  thet  shootin'.  You  air 
comin'  along." 

Ken  was  as  pleased  as  Hal,  but  he  replied, 
soberly:  "Well,  kid,  I  hope  I  can  hold  as 
straight  as  that  when  we  run  up  against  a 
jaguar." 

"Do  you  think  we'll  see  one?"  asked  Hal. 

"Just  you  wait!"  exclaimed  George,  reply- 
ing for  Ken.  "Pepe  says  we'll  have  to  sleep 
in  the  boat,  and  anchor  the  boat  in  the 
middle  of  the  river." 

"What  for?" 

"To  keep  those  big  yellow  tigers  from  eat- 
ing us  up." 

"How  nice!"  replied  Hal,  with  a  rather 
forced  laugh. 

So,  talking  and  laughing,  the  boys  resumed 
their  down-stream  journey.  Ken,  who  was 
always  watching  with  sharp  eyes,  saw  buzzards 
appear,  as  if  by  magic.  Before  the  boat  was 
half  a  mile  down  the  river  buzzards  were 
circling  over  the  remains  of  the  deer.  These 
birds  of  prey  did  not  fly  from  the  jungle  on 
either  side  of  the  stream.  They  sailed, 
dropped  down  from  the  clear  blue  sky  where 
they  had  been  invisible.  How  wonderful 
that  was  to  Ken !  Nature  had  endowed  these 
vulture-like  birds  with  wonderful  scent  or 
instinct  or  sight,  or  all  combined.  But  Ken 

92 


THE    FIRST   TIGER-CAT 

believed  that  it  was  power  of  sight  which 
brought  the  buzzards  so  quickly  to  the  scene 
of  the  killing.  He  watched  them  circling, 
sweeping  down  till  a  curve  in  the  river  hid 
them  from  view. 

And  with  this  bend  came  a  welcome  change. 
The  bluff  played  out  in  a  rocky  slope  below 
which  the  green  jungle  was  relief  to  aching 
eyes.  As  the  boys  made  this  point,  the 
evening  breeze  began  to  blow.  They  beached 
the  boat  and  unloaded  to  make  camp. 

"We  haven't  had  any  work  to-day,  but 
we're  all  tired  just  the  same,"  observed  Ken. 

"The  heat  makes  a  fellow  tired,"  said 
George. 

They  were  fortunate  in  finding  a  grassy 
plot  where  there  appeared  to  be  but  few 
ticks  and  other  creeping  things.  That  even- 
ing it  was  a  little  surprise  to  Ken  to  realize 
how  sensitive  he  had  begun  to  feel  about 
these  jungle  vermin. 

Pepe  went  up  the  bank  for  fire-wood.  Ken 
heard  him  slashing  away  with  his  machete. 
Then  this  sound  ceased,  and  Pepe  yelled  in 
fright.  Ken  and  George  caught  up  guns  as 
they  bounded  into  the  thicket;  Hal  started 
to  follow,  likewise  armed.  Ken  led  the  way 
through  a  thorny  brake  to  come  sudden- 
ly upon  Pepe.  At  the  same  instant  Ken 

93 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

caught  a  glimpse  of  gray,  black-striped  forms 
slipping  away  in  the  jungle.  Pepe  shouted 
out  something. 

"Tiger-cats!"  exclaimed  George. 

Ken  held  up  his  ringer  to  enjoin  silence. 
With  that  he  stole  cautiously  forward,  the 
others  noiselessly  at  his  heels.  The  thicket 
was  lined  with  well-beaten  trails,  and  by 
following  these  and  stooping  low  it  was 
possible  to  go  ahead  without  rustling  the 
brush.  Owing  to  the  gathering  twilight  Ken 
could  not  see  very  far.  When  he  stopped  to 
listen  he  heard  the  faint  crackling  of  dead 
brush  and  soft,  quick  steps.  He  had  not  pro- 
ceeded far  when  pattering  footsteps  halted 
him.  Ken  dropped  to  his  knee.  The  boys 
knelt  behind  him,  and  Pepe  whispered.  Peer- 
ing along  the  trail  Ken  saw  what  he  took  for 
a  wildcat.  Its  boldness  amazed  him.  Surely 
it  had  heard  him,  but  instead  of  bounding 
into  the  thicket  it  crouched  not  more  than 
twenty-five  feet  away.  Ken  took  a  quick 
shot  at  the  gray  huddled  form.  It  jerked, 
stretched  out,  and  lay  still.  Then  a  crashing 
in  the  brush,  and  gray  streaks  down  the  trail 
told  Ken  of  more  game. 

"There  they  go.  Peg  away  at  them," 
called  Ken. 

George  and   Hal  burned  a  good  deal  of 

94 


THE    FIRST   TIGER-CAT 

powder  and  sent  much  lead  whistling  through 
the  dry  branches,  but  the  gray  forms  vanished 
in  the  jungle. 

"We  got  one,  anyway,"  said  Ken. 

He  advanced  to  find  his  quarry  quite  dead. 
It  was  bigger  than  any  wildcat  Ken  had 
ever  seen.  The  color  was  a  grayish  yellow, 
almost  white,  lined  and  spotted  with  black. 
Ken  lifted  it  and  found  it  heavy  enough  to 
make  a  good  load. 

"He's  a  beauty,"  said  Hal. 

"Pepe  says  it's  a  tiger-cat,"  remarked 
George.  "There  are  two  or  three  kinds 
besides  the  big  tiger.  We  may  run  into  a 
lot  of  them  and  get  some  skins." 

It  was  almost  dark  when  they  reached 
camp.  While  Pepe  and  Hal  skinned  the  tiger- 
cat  and  stretched  the  pelt  over  a  framework 
of  sticks  the  other  boys  got  supper.  They 
were  all  very  hungry  and  tired,  and  pleased 
with  the  events  of  the  day.  As  they  sat 
round  the  camp-fire  there  was  a  constant 
whirring  of  water-fowl  over  their  heads  and 
an  incessant  hum  of  insects  from  the  jungle. 

"Ken,  does  it  feel  as  wild  to  you  here  as  on 
Buckskin  Mountain?"  asked  Hal. 

"Oh  yes,  much  wilder,  Hal,"  replied  his 
brother.  "And  it's  different,  somehow.  Out 
in  Arizona  there  was  always  the  glorious 

95 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

expectancy  of  to-morrow's  fun  or  sport.  Here 
I  have  a  kind  of  worry — a  feeling — " 

But  he  concluded  it  wiser  to  keep  to  him- 
self that  strange  feeling  of  dread  which  came 
over  him  at  odd  moments. 

"It  suits  me,"  said  Hal.  "I  want  to  get 
a  lot  of  things  and  keep  them  alive.  Of  course, 
I  want  specimens.  I'd  like  some  skins  for 
my  den,  too.  But  I  don't  care  so  much 
about  killing  things." 

"Just  wait!"  retorted  George,  who  evident- 
ly took  Hal's  remark  as  a  reflection  upon  his 
weakness.  "Just  wait!  You'll  be  shooting 
pretty  soon  for  your  life." 

"Now,  George,  what  do  you  mean  by 
that?"  questioned  Ken,  determined  to  pin 
George  down  to  facts.  "You  said  you  didn't 
really  know  anything  about  this  jungle. 
Why  are  you  always  predicting  disaster  for 
us?" 

"Why?  Because  I've  heard  things  about 
the  jungle,"  retorted,  George.  "And  Pepe 
says  wait  till  we  get  down  off  the  mountain. 
He  doesn't  know  anything,  either.  But  it's 
his  instinct — Pepe's  half  Indian.  So  I  say, 
too,  wait  till  we  get  down  in  the  jungle!" 

"Confound  you!  Where  are  we  now?" 
queried  Ken. 

"The  real  jungle  is  the  lowland.  There 
96 


THE    FIRST   TIGER-CAT 

we'll  find  the  tigers  and  the  crocodiles  and  the 
wild  cattle  and  wild  pigs." 

"Bring  on  your  old  pigs  and  things,"  re- 
plied Hal. 

But  Ken  looked  into  the  glowing  embers 
of  the  camp-fire  and  was  silent.  When  he 
got  out  his  note-book  and  began  his  drawing, 
he  forgot  the  worry  and  dread  in  the  interest 
of  his  task.  He  was  astonished  at  his  memory, 
to  see  how  he  could  remember  every  turn  in 
the  river  and  yet  not  lose  his  sense  of  direc- 
tion. He  could  tell  almost  perfectly  the  dis- 
tance traveled,  because  he  knew  so  well  just 
how  much  a  boat  would  cover  in  swift  or 
slow  waters  in  a  given  time.  He  thought  he 
could  give  a  fairly  correct  estimate  of  the 
drop  of  the  river.  And,  as  for  descriptions 
of  the  jungle  life  along  the  shores,  that  was  a 
delight,  all  except  trying  to  understand  and 
remember  and  spell  the  names  given  to  him 
by  Pepe.  Ken  imagined  Pepe  spoke  a  mix- 
ture of  Toltec,  Aztec,  Indian,  Spanish,  and 
English. 


IX 

IN   THE  WHITE  WATER 

UPON  awakening  next  morning  Ken  found 
the  sun  an  hour  high.  He  was  stiff  and 
sore  and  thirsty.  Pepe  and  the  boys  slept 
so  soundly  it  seemed  selfish  to  wake  them. 

All  around  camp  there  was  a  melodious 
concourse  of  birds.  But  the  parrots  did  not 
make  a  visit  that  morning.  While  Ken  was 
washing  in  the  river  a  troop  of  deer  came  down 
to  the  bar  on  the  opposite  side.  Ken  ran  for 
his  rifle,  and  by  mistake  took  up  George's 
.32.  He  had  a  splendid  shot  at  less  than  one 
hundred  yards.  But  the  bullet  dropped  fif- 
teen feet  in  front  of  the  leading  buck.  The 
deer  ran  into  the  deep,  bushy  willows. 

"That  gun's  leaded,"  muttered  Ken.  "It 
didn't  shoot  where  I  aimed." 

Pepe  jumped  up;  George  rolled  out  of  his 
blanket  with  one  eye  still  glued  shut;  and 
Hal  stretched  and  yawned  and  groaned. 

"Do  I  have  to  get  up?"  he  asked. 

"Shore,  lad,"  said  Ken,  mimicking  Jim  Wil- 
98 


IN   THE   WHITE    WATER 

Hams,  "or  I'll  hev  to  be  reconsiderin'  that  idee 
of  mine  about  you  bein'  pards  with  me." 

Such  mention  of  Hal's  ranger  friend  brought 
the  boy  out  of  his  lazy  bed  with  amusing 
alacrity. 

"Rustle  breakfast,  now,  you  fellows,"  said 
Ken,  and,  taking  his  rifle,  he  started  off  to 
climb  the  high  river  bluff. 

It  was  his  idea  to  establish  firmly  in  mind 
the  trend  of  the  mountain-range,  and  the 
relation  of  the  river  to  it.  The  difficulty 
in  mapping  the  river  would  come  after  it 
left  the  mountains  to  wind  away  into  the 
wide  lowlands.  The  matter  of  climbing  the 
bluff  would  have  been  easy  but  for  the  fact 
that  he  wished  to  avoid  contact  with  grass, 
brush,  trees,  even  dead  branches,  as  all  were 
covered  with  ticks.  The  upper  half  of  the 
bluff  was  bare,  and  when  he  reached  that  part 
he  soon  surmounted  it.  Ken  faced  south 
with  something  of  eagerness.  Fortunately 
the  mist  had  dissolved  under  the  warm  rays 
of  the  sun,  affording  an  unobstructed  view. 
That  scene  was  wild  and  haunting,  yet  dif- 
ferent from  what  his  fancy  had  pictured.  The 
great  expanse  of  jungle  was  gray,  the  green 
line  of  cypress,  palm,  and  bamboo  following 
the  southward  course  of  the  river.  The 
mountain-range  some  ten  miles  distant  sloped 

99 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

to  the  south  and  faded  away  in  the  haze. 
The  river  disappeared  in  rich  dark  verdure, 
and  but  for  it,  which  afforded  a  water-road 
back  to  civilization,  Ken  would  have  been 
lost  in  a  dense  gray-green  overgrowth  of 
tropical  wilderness.  Once  or  twice  he  thought 
he  caught  the  faint  roar  of  a  waterfall  on  the 
morning  breeze,  yet  could  not  be  sure,  and  he 
returned  toward  camp  with  a  sober  appre- 
ciation of  the  difficulty  of  his  enterprise 
and  a  more  thrilling  sense  of  its  hazard  and 
charm. 

"Didn't  see  anything  to  peg  at,  eh?" 
greeted  Hal.  "Well,  get  your  teeth  in  some 
of  this  venison  before  it's  all  gone." 

Soon  they  were  under  way  again,  Pepe 
strong  and  willing  at  the  oars.  This  time 
Ken  had  his  rifle  and  shotgun  close  at  hand, 
ready  for  use.  Half  a  mile  below,  the  river, 
running  still  and  deep,  entered  a  shaded  water- 
way so  narrow  that  in  places  the  branches 
of  wide-spreading  and  leaning  cypresses  met 
and  intertwined  their  moss-fringed  foliage. 
This  lane  was  a  paradise  for  birds,  that  ranged 
from  huge  speckled  cranes,  six  feet  high,  to 
little  yellow  birds  almost  too  small  to  see. 

Black  squirrels  were  numerous  and  very 
tame.  In  fact,  all  the  creatures  along  this 
shaded  stream  were  so  fearless  that  it  was 

100 


IN   THE   WHITE   WATER 

easy  to  see  they  had  never  heard  a  shot. 
Ken  awoke  sleepy  cranes  with  his  fishing- 
rod  and  once  pushed  a  blue  heron  off  a  log. 
He  heard  animals  of  some  species  running 
back  from  the  bank,  but  could  not  see  them. 

All  at  once  a  soft  breeze  coming  up-stream 
bore  a  deep  roar  of  tumbling  rapids.  The 
sensation  of  dread  which  had  bothered  Ken 
occasionally  now  returned  and  fixed  itself  in 
his  mind.  He  was  in  the  jungle  of  Mexico, 
and  knew  not  what  lay  ahead  of  him.  But  if 
he  had  been  in  the  wilds  of  unexplored 
Brazil  and  had  heard  that  roar,  it  would  have 
been  familiar  to  him.  In  his  canoe  experience 
on  the  swift  streams  of  Pennsylvania  Ken  Ward 
had  learned,  long  before  he  came  to  rapids, 
to  judge  what  they  were  from  the  sound. 
His  attention  wandered  from  the  beautiful 
birds,  the  moss-shaded  bowers,  and  the  over- 
hanging jungle.  He  listened  to  the  heavy, 
sullen  roar  of  the  rapids. 

"That  water  sounds  different,"  remarked 
George. 

"Grande,"  said  Pepe,  with  a  smile. 

"Pretty  heavy,  Ken,  eh?"  asked  Hal, 
looking  quickly  at  his  brother. 

But  Ken  Ward  made  his  face  a  mask,  and 
betrayed  nothing  of  the  grim  nature  of  his 
thought.  Pepe  and  the  boys  had  little  idea 

101 


KEN  WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

of  danger,  and  they  had  now  a  blind  faith  in 
Ken. 

"I  dare  say  we'll  get  used  to  that  roar,"  re- 
plied Ken,  easily,  and  he  began  to  pack  his 
guns  away  in  their  cases. 

Hal  forgot  his  momentary  anxiety;  Pepe 
rowed  on,  leisurely;  and  George  lounged  in  his 
seat.  There  was  no  menace  for  them  in  that 
dull,  continuous  roar. 

But  Ken  knew  they  would  soon  be  in  fast 
water  and  before  long  would  drop  down  into 
the  real  wilderness.  It  was  not  now  too  late 
to  go  back  up  the  river,  but  soon  that  would 
be  impossible.  Keeping  a  sharp  lookout 
ahead,  Ken  revolved  in  mind  the  necessity 
for  caution  and  skilful  handling  of  the  boat. 
But  he  realized,  too,  that  overzealousness  on 
the  side  of  caution  was  a  worse  thing  for  such 
a  trip  than  sheer  recklessness.  Good  judg- 
ment in  looking  over  rapids,  a  quick  eye  to 
pick  the  best  channel,  then  a  daring  spirit — 
that  was  the  ideal  to  be  striven  for  in  going 
down  swift  rivers. 

Presently  Ken  saw  a  break  in  the  level 
surface  of  the  water.  He  took  Pepe's  place 
at  the  oars,  and,  as  usual,  turned  the  boat 
stern  first  down-stream.  The  banks  were  low 
and  shelved  out  in  rocky  points.  This  re- 
lieved Ken,  for  he  saw  that  he  could  land  just 

IO2 


IN   THE   WHITE   WATER 

above  the  falls.  What  he  feared  was  a  nar- 
row gorge  impossible  to  portage  round  or  go 
through.  As  the  boat  approached  the  break 
the  roar  seemed  to  divide  itself,  hollow  and 
shallow  near  at  hand,  rushing  and  heavy 
farther  on. 

Ken  rowed  close  to  the  bank  and  landed  on 
the  first  strip  of  rock.  He  got  out  and,  walk- 
ing along  this  ledge,  soon  reached  the  fall. 
It  was  a  straight  drop  of  some  twelve  or  fifteen 
feet.  The  water  was  shallow  all  the  way  across. 

"Boys,  this  is  easy,"  said  Ken.  "We'll 
pack  the  outfit  round  the  fall,  and  slide  the 
boat  over." 

But  Ken  did  not  say  anything  about  the 
white  water  extending  below  the  fall  as  far 
as  he  could  see.  From  here  came  the  sullen 
roar  that  had  worried  him. 

Portaging  the  supplies  around  that  place 
turned  out  to  be  far  from  easy.  The  portage 
was  not  long  nor  rugged,  but  the  cracked, 
water-worn  rock  made  going  very  difficult. 
The  boys  often  stumbled.  Pepe  fell  and 
broke  open  a  box,  and  almost  broke  his  leg. 
Ken  had  a  hard  knock.  Then,  when  it  came 
to  carrying  the  trunk,  one  at  each  corner, 
progress  was  laborious  and  annoying.  Full 
two  hours  were  lost  in  transporting  the  out- 
fit around  the  fall. 

8  IOJ  , 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

Below  there  was  a  wide,  shelving  apron, 
over  which  the  water  ran  a  foot  or  so  in  depth. 
Ken  stationed  Pepe  and  the  boys  there,  and 
went  up  to  get  the  boat.  He  waded  out  with 
it.  Ken  saw  that  his  end  of  this  business  was 
going  to  be  simple  enough,  but  he  had  doubts 
as  to  what  would  happen  to  the  boys. 

' '  Brace  yourselves,  now, ' '  he  yelled.  ' '  When 
I  drop  her  over  she'll  come  a-humming. 
Hang  on  if  she  drags  you  a  mile!" 

Wading  out  deeper  Ken  let  the  boat  swing 
down  with  the  current  till  the  stern  projected 
over  the  fall.  He  had  trouble  in  keeping 
his  footing,  for  the  rock  was  slippery.  Then 
with  a  yell  he  ran  the  stern  far  out  over  the 
drop,  bore  down  hard  on  the  bow,  and 
shoved  off. 

The  boat  shot  out  and  down,  to  alight  with 
a  heavy  souse.  Then  it  leaped  into  the  swift 
current.  George  got  his  hands  on  it  first, 
and  went  down  like  a  ninepin.  The  boat 
floated  over  him.  The  bow  struck  Hal,  and 
would  have  dragged  him  away  had  not  Pepe 
laid  powerful  hands  on  the  stern.  They  waded 
to  the  lower  ledge. 

"Didn't  ship  a  bucketful,"  said  Hal. 
"Fine  work,  Ken." 

"I  got  all  the  water,"  added  the  drenched 
and  dripping  George. 

104 


IN   THE    WHITE   WATER 

"Bail  out,  boys,  and  repack,  while  I  look 
below,"  said  Ken. 

He  went  down-stream  a  little  way  to  take 
a  survey  of  the  rapids.  If  those  rapids  had 
been  back  in  Pennsylvania,  Ken  felt  that  he 
could  have  gone  at  them  in  delight.  If  the 
jungle  country  had  been  such  that  damage  to 
boat  or  supplies  could  have  been  remedied  or 
replaced,  these  rapids  would  not  have  appeared 
so  bad.  Ken  walked  up  and  down  looking 
over  the  long  white  inclines  more  than  was 
wise,  and  he  hesitated  about  going  into  them. 
But  it  had  to  be  done.  So  he  went  back  to 
the  boys.  Then  he  took  the  oars  with  grip- 
ping fingers. 

"  George,  can  you  swim?"  he  asked. 

"I'm  a  second  cousin  to  a  fish,"  replied 
George. 

"All  right.  We're  off.  Now,  if  we  upset, 
hang  to  the  boat,  if  you  can,  and  hold  up 
your  legs.  George,  tell  Pepe." 

Ken  backed  the  boat  out  from  the  shore. 
To  his  right  in  the  middle  of  the  narrow  river 
was  a  racy  current  that  he  kept  out  of  as  long 
as  possible.  But  presently  he  was  drawn 
into  it,  and  the  boat  shot  forward,  headed 
into  the  first  incline,  and  went  racing  smoothly 
down  toward  the  white  waves  of  the  rapids. 

This  was  a  trying  moment  for  Ken.  Grip 
105 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

as  hard  as  he  might,  the  oar-handles  slipped 
in  his  sweaty  hands. 

The  boys  were  yelling,  but  Ken  could  not 
hear  for  the  din  of  roaring  waters.  The  boat 
sailed  down  with  swift,  gliding  motion.  When 
it  thumped  into  the  back-lash  of  the  first 
big  waves  the  water  threshed  around  and  over 
the  boys.  Then  they  were  in  the  thick  of 
rush  and  roar.  Ken  knew  he  wras  not  hand- 
ling the  boat  well.  It  grazed  stones  that 
should  have  been  easy  to  avoid,  and  bumped 
on  hidden  ones,  and  got  half  broadside  to 
the  current.  Pepe,  by  quick  action  with  an 
oar,  pushed  the  stern  aside  from  collision  with 
more  than  one  rock.  Several  times  Ken 
missed  a  stroke  when  a  powerful  one  was 
needed.  He  passed  between  stones  so  close 
together  that  he  had  to  ship  the  oars.  It  was 
all  rapid  water,  this  stretch,  but  the  bad 
places,  with  sunken  rocks,  falls,  and  big  waves, 
were  strung  out  at  such  distances  apart  that 
Ken  had  time  to  get  the  boat  going  right 
before  entering  them. 

Ken  saw  scarcely  anything  of  the  banks 
of  the  river.  They  blurred  in  his  sight. 
Sometimes  they  were  near,  sometimes  far. 
The  boat  turned  corners  where  rocky  ledges 
pointed  out,  constricting  the  stream  and  mak^ 
ing  a  curved  channel.  What  lay  around  the 

1 06 


IN   THE   WHITE   WATER 

curve  was  always  a  question  and  a  cause  for 
suspense.  Often  the  boat  raced  down  a 
chute  and  straight  toward  a  rocky  wall. 
Ken  would  pull  back  with  all  his  might,  and 
Pepe  would  break  the  shock  by  striking  the 
wall  with  his  oar. 

More  than  once  Pepe  had  a  narrow  escape 
from  being  knocked  overboard.  George  tried 
to  keep  him  from  standing  up.  Finally  at 
the  end  of  a  long  rapid,  Pepe,  who  had  the 
stern-seat,  jumped  up  and  yelled.  Ken  saw 
a  stone  directly  in  the  path  of  the  boat,  and 
he  pulled  back  on  the  oars  with  a  quick, 
strong  jerk.  Pepe  shot  out  of  the  stern  as 
if  he  had  been  flung  from  a  catapult.  He 
swam  with  the  current  while  the  boat  drifted. 
He  reached  smooth  water  and  the  shore 
before  Ken  could  pick  him  up. 

It  was  fun  for  everybody  but  Ken.  There 
were  three  inches  of  water  in  the  boat.  The 
canvas,  however,  had  been  arranged  to  pro- 
tect guns,  grips,  and  supplies.  George  had 
been  wet  before  he  entered  the  rapids,  so  a 
little  additional  water  did  not  matter  to  him. 
Hal  was  almost  as  wet  as  Pepe. 

"I'm  glad  that's  past,"  said  Ken. 

With  that  long  rapid  behind  him  he  felt 
different.  It  was  what  he  had  needed.  His 
nervousness  disappeared  and  he  had  no  dread 

107 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

of  the  next  fall.  While  the  boys  bailed  out 
the  boat  Ken  rested  and  thought.  He  had 
made  mistakes  in  that  rapid  just  passed. 
Luck  had  favored  him.  He  went  over  the 
mistakes  and_saw  where  he  had  been  wrong, 
and  how  he  could  have  avoided  them  if  he 
had  felt  right.  Ken  realized  now  that  this 
was  a  daredevil  trip.  And  the  daredevil 
in  him  had  been  shut  up  in  dread.  It  took 
just  that  nervous  dread,  and  the  hard  work, 
blunders  and  accidents,  the  danger  and  luck, 
to  liberate  the  spirit  that  would  make  the 
trip  a  success.  Pepe  and  George  were  loud 
in  their  praises  of  Ken.  But  they  did  not 
appreciate  the  real  hazard  of  the  undertaking, 
and  if  Hal  did  he  was  too  much  of  a  wild 
boy  to  care. 

"All  aboard,"  called  George. 

Then  they  were  on  their  way  again.  Ken 
found  Irmself  listening  for  rapids.  It  was  no 
surprise  to  hear  a  dull  roar  round  the  next 
bend.  His  hair  rose  stiffly  under  his  hat. 
But  this  time  he  did  not  feel  the  chill,  the  un- 
certainty, the  lack  of  confidence  that  had 
before  weakened  him. 

At  the  head  of  a  long,  shallow  incline  the 
boys  tumbled  overboard,  Ken  and  Hal  at 
the  bow,  Pepe  and  George  at  the  stern. 
They  waded  with  the  bow  up-stream.  The 

ioS 


IN   THE   WHITE    WATER 

water  tore  around  their  legs,  rising  higher 
and  higher.  Soon  Pepe  and  George  had  to 
climb  in  the  boat,  for  the  water  became  so 
deep  and  swift  they  could  not  wade. 

"Jump  in,  Hal,"  called  Ken. 

Then  he  held  to  the  bow  an  instant  longer, 
wading  a  little  farther  down.  This  was 
ticklish  business,  and  all  depended  upon 
Ken.  He  got  the  stern  of  the  boat  straight 
in  line  with  the  channel  he  wanted  to  run, 
then  he  leaped  aboard  and  made  for  the  oars. 
The  boat  sped  down.  At  the  bottom  of  this 
incline  was  a  mass  of  leaping  green  and  white 
waves.  The  blunt  stern  of  the  boat  made  a 
great  splash  and  the  water  flew  over  the  boys. 
They  came  through  the  roar  and  hiss  and  spray 
to  glide  into  a  mill-race  current. 

"Never  saw  such  swift  water!"  exclaimed 
Ken. 

This  incline  ended  in  a  sullen  plunge  be- 
tween two  huge  rocks.  Ken  saw  the  danger 
long  before  it  became  evident  to  his  compan- 
ions. There  was  no  other  way  to  shoot  the 
rapid.  He  could  not  reach  the  shore.  He 
must  pass  between  the  rocks.  Ken  pushed 
on  one  oar,  then  on  the  other,  till  he  got  the 
boat  in  line,  and  then  he  pushed  with  both 
oars.  The  boat  flew  down  that  incline.  It 
went  so  swiftly  that  if  it  had  hit  one  of  the 

109 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

rocks  it  would  have  been  smashed  to  kindling 
wood.  Hal  crouched  low.  George's  face  was 
white.  And  Pepe  leaned  forward  with  his  big 
arms  outstretched,  ready  to  try  to  prevent  a 
collision. 

Down!  down  with  the  speed  of  the  wind! 
The  boat  flashed  between  the  black  stones. 
Then  it  was  raised  aloft,  light  as  a  feather,  to 
crash  into  the  back-lashers.  The  din  deafened 
Ken ;  the  spray  blinded  him.  The  boat  seemed 
to  split  a  white  pall  of  water,  then,  with  many 
a  bounce,  drifted  out  of  that  rapid  into  little 
choppy  waves,  and  from  them  into  another 
long,  smooth  runway. 

Ken  rested,  and  had  nothing  to  say.  Pepe 
shook  his  black  head.  Hal  looked  at  his 
brother.  George  had  forgotten  his  rifle.  No 
one  spoke. 

Soon  Ken  had  more  work  on  hand.  For 
round  another  corner  lay  more  fast  water. 
The  boat  dipped  on  a  low  fall,  and  went  down 
into  the  midst  of  green  waves  with  here  and 
there  ugly  rocks  splitting  the  current.  The 
stream-bed  was  continually  new  and  strange 
to  Ken,  and  he  had  never  seen  such  queer  for- 
mation of  rocks.  This  rapid,  however,  was 
easy  to  navigate.  A  slanting  channel  of  swift 
water  connected  it  with  another  rapid.  Ken 
backed  into  that  one,  passed  through,  only 

no 


IN   THE    WHITE    WATER 

to  face  another.  And  so  it  went  for  a  long 
succession  of  shallow  rapids. 

A  turn  in  the  winding  lane  of  cypresses 
revealed  walls  of  gray,  between  which  the 
river  disappeared. 

"Aha!"  muttered  Ken. 

"Ken,  I'll  bet  this  is  the  place  you've  been 
looking  for,"  said  Hal. 

The  absence  of  any  roar  of  water  em- 
boldened Ken.  Nearing  the  head  of  the 
ravine,  he  stood  upon  the  seat  and  looked 
ahead.  But  Ken  could  not  see  many  rods 
ahead.  The  ravine  turned,  and  it  was  the 
deceiving  turns  in  the  river  that  he  had 
feared.  What  a  strange  sensation  Ken  had 
when  he  backed  the  boat  into  the  mouth  of 
that  gorge!  He  was  forced  against  his  will. 
Yet  there  seemed  to  be  a  kind  of  blood- 
tingling  pleasure  in  the  prospect. 

The  current  caught  the  boat  and  drew 
it  between  the  gray-green  walls  of  rock. 

"It's  coming  to  us,"  said  the  doubtful 
George. 

The  current  ran  all  of  six  miles  an  hour. 
This  was  not  half  as  fast  as  the  boys  had 
traveled  in  rapids,  but  it  appeared  swift 
enough  because  of  the  nearness  of  the  over- 
shadowing walls.  In  the  shade  the  water 
took  on  a  different  coloring.  It  was  brown 

in 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

and  oily.  It  slid  along  silently.  It  was 
deep,  and  the  swirling  current  suggested 
power.  Here  and  there  long,  creeping  ferns 
covered  the  steep  stone  sides,  and  above  ran 
a  stream  of  blue  sky  fringed  by  leaning  palms. 
Once  Hal  put  his  hands  to  his  lips  and  yelled: 
"Hel-lo!"  The  yell  seemed  to  rip  the  silence 
and  began  to  clap  from  wall  to  wall.  It 
gathered  quickness  until  it  clapped  in  one 
fiendish  rattle.  Then  it  wound  away  from 
the  passage,  growing  fainter  and  fainter,  and 
at  last  died  in  a  hollow  echo. 

"Don't  do  that  again,"  ordered  Ken. 

He  began  to  wish  he  could  see  the  end  of 
that  gorge.  But  it  grew  narrower,  and  the 
shade  changed  to  twilight,  and  there  were 
no  long,  straight  stretches.  The  river  kept 
turning  corners.  Quick  to  note  the  sl'ght- 
est  change  in  conditions,  Ken  felt  a  breeze, 
merely  a  zephyr,  fan  his  hot  face.  The  cur- 
rent had  almost  imperceptibly  quickened. 
Yet  it  was  still  silent.  Then  on  the  gentle 
wind  came  a  low  murmur.  Ken's  pulse 
beat  fast.  Turning  his  ear  down-stream,  he 
strained  his  hearing.  The  low  murmur  ceased. 
Perhaps  he  had  imagined  it.  Still  he  kept 
listening.  There!  Again  it  came,  low,  far 
away,  strange.  It  might  have  been  the  wind 
in  the  palms.  But  no,  he  could  not  possibly 

112 


IN   THE    WHITE    WATER 

persuade  himself  it  was  wind.  And  as  that 
faint  breeze  stopped  he  lost  the  sound  once 
more.  The  river  was  silent,  and  the  boat, 
and  the  boys — it  was  a  silent  ride.  Ken 
divined  that  his  companions  were  enraptured. 
But  this  ride  had  no  beauty,  no  charm  for 
him. 

There!  Another  faint  puff  of  wind,  and 
again  the  low  murmur!  He  fancied  it  was 
louder.  He  was  beginning  to  feel  an  icy 
dread  when  all  was  still  once  more.  So  the 
boat  drifted  swiftly  on  with  never  a  gurgle 
of  water  about  her  gunwales.  The  river 
gleamed  in  brown  shadows.  Ken  saw  bub- 
bles rise  and  break  on  the  surface,  and  there 
was  a  slight  rise  or  swell  of  the  water  toward 
the  center  of  the  channel.  This  bothered  him. 
He  could  not  understand  it.  But  then  there 
had  been  many  other  queer  formations  of 
rock  and  freaks  of  current  along  this  river. 

The  boat  glided  on  and  turned  another 
corner,  the  sharpest  one  yet.  A  long,  shadowy 
water-lane,  walled  in  to  the  very  skies,  opened 
up  to  Ken's  keen  gaze.  The  water  here 
began  to  race  onward,  still  wonderfully  silent. 
And  now  the  breeze  carried  a  low  roar.  It 
was  changeable  yet  persistent.  It  deepened. 

Once  more  Ken  felt  his  hair  rise  under 
his  hat.  Cold  sweat  wet  his  skin.  Despite 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

the  pounding  of  his  heart  and  the  throb  of 
his  veins,  his  blood  seemed  to  clog,  to  freeze, 
to  stand  still. 

That  roar  was  the  roar  of  rapids.  Im- 
possible to  go  back!  If  there  had  been  four 
sets  of  oars,  Ken  and  his  comrades  could  not 
row  the  heavy  boat  back  up  that  swift, 
sliding  river. 

They  must  go  on. 


X 

LOST! 

"l/'EN,  old  man,  do  you  hear  that?"  ques- 
fx  tioned  Hal,  waking  from  his  trance. 

George  likewise  rose  out  of  his  lazy  con- 
tentment. "Must  be  rapids,"  he  muttered. 
"If  we  strike  rapids  in  this  gorge  it's  all  day 
with  us.  What  did  I  tell  you!" 

Pepe's  dark,  searching  eyes  rested  on  Ken. 

But  Ken  had  no  word  for  any  of  them. 
He  was  fighting  an  icy  numbness,  and  the 
weakness  of  muscle  and  the  whirl  of  his 
mind.  It  was  thought  of  responsibility  that 
saved  him  from  collapse. 

"It's  up  to  you,  old  man,"  said  Hal, 
quietly. 

In  a  moment  like  this  the  boy  could  not 
wholly  be  deceived. 

Ken  got  a  grip  upon  himself.  He  looked 
down  the  long,  narrow  lane  of  glancing  water. 
Some  hundred  yards  on,  it  made  another  turn 
round  a  corner,  and  from  this  dim  curve  came 
the  roar.  The  current  was  hurrying  the  boat 

"5 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

toward  it,  but  not  fast  enough  to  suit  Ken. 
He  wanted  to  see  the  worst,  to  get  into  the 
thick  of  it,  to  overcome  it.  So  he  helped  the 
boat  along.  A  few  moments  sufficed  to  cover 
that  gliding  stretch  of  river,  yet  to  Ken  it 
seemed  never  to  have  an  end.  The  roar 
steadily  increased.  The  current  became  still 
stronger.  Ken  saw  eruptions  of  water  rising 
as  from  an  explosion  beneath  the  surface. 
Whirlpools  raced  along  with  the  boat.  The 
dim,  high  walls  re-echoed  the  roaring  of  the 
water. 

The  first  thing  Ken  saw  when  he  sailed 
round  that  corner  was  a  widening  of  the  chasm 
and  bright  sunlight  ahead.  Perhaps  an  eighth 
of  a  mile  below  the  steep  walls  ended  abruptly. 
Next  in  quick  glance  he  saw  a  narrow  channel 
of  leaping,  tossing,  curling  white-crested  waves 
under  sunlighted  mist  and  spray. 

Pulling  powerfully  back  and  to  the  left 
Ken  brought  the  boat  alongside  the  cliff. 
Then  he  shipped  his  oars. 

"Hold  hard,"  he  yelled,  and  he  grasped  the 
stone.  The  boys  complied,  and  thus  stopped 
the  boat.  Ken  stood  up  on  the  seat.  It  was 
a  bad  place  he  looked  down  into,  but  he  could 
not  see  any  rocks.  And  rocks  were  what  he 
feared  most. 

"Hold  tight,  boys,"  he  said.  Then  he 
116 


LOST! 

got  Pepe  to  come  to  him  and  sit  on  the  seat. 
Ken  stepped  up  on  Pepe's  shoulders  and,  by 
holding  to  the  rock,  was  able  to  get  a  good 
view  of  the  rapid.  It  was  not  a  rapid  at  all, 
but  a  constriction  of  the  channel,  and  also  a 
steep  slant.  The  water  rushed  down  so  swiftly 
to  get  through  that  it  swelled  in  the  center 
in  a  long  frothy  ridge  of  waves.  The  water 
was  deep.  Ken  could  not  see  any  bumps  or 
splits  or  white-wreathed  rocks,  such  as  were 
conspicuous  in  a  rapid.  The  peril  here  for 
Ken  was  to  let  the  boat  hit  the  wall  or  turn 
broadside  or  get  out  of  that  long  swelling 
ridge. 

He  stepped  down  and  turned  to  the  white- 
faced  boys.  He  had  to  yell  close  to  them  to 
make  them  hear  him  in  the  roar. 

"I — can — run — this — place.  But — you've 
got — to  help.  Pull — the  canvas — up  higher 
in  the  stern — and  hold  it." 

Then  he  directed  Pepe  to  kneel  in  the 
bow  of  the  boat  with  an  oar  and  be  ready  to 
push  off  from  the  walls. 

If  Ken  had  looked  again  or  hesitated  a 
moment  he  would  have  lost  his  nerve.  He 
recognized  that  fact.  And  he  shoved  off 
instantly.  Once  the  boat  had  begun  to 
glide  down,  gathering  momentum,  he  felt 
his  teeth  grind  hard  and  his  muscles  grow 

117 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

tense.  He  had  to  bend  his  head  from  side  to 
side  to  see  beyond  the  canvas  George  and  Hal 
were  holding  round  their  shoulders.  He  be- 
lieved with  that  acting  as  a  buffer  in  the  stern 
he  could  go  pounding  through  those  waves. 
Then  he  was  in  the  middle  of  the  channel, 
and  the  boat  fairly  sailed  along.  Ken  kept 
his  oars  poised,  ready  to  drop  either  one  for 
a  stroke.  All  he  wanted  was  to  enter  those 
foaming,  tumultuous  waves  with  his  boat 
pointed  right.  He  knew  he  could  not  hope 
to  see  anything  low  down  after  he  entered 
the  race.  He  calculated  that  the  last  instant 
would  give  him  an  opportunity  to  get  his 
direction  in  line  with  some  object. 

Then,  even  as  he  planned  it,  the  boat  dipped 
on  a  beautiful  glassy  incline,  and  glided  down 
toward  the  engulfing,  roaring  waves.  Above 
them,  just  in  the  center,  Ken  caught  sight  of 
the  tufted  top  of  a  palm-tree.  That  was  his 
landmark ! 

The  boat  shot  into  a  great,  curling,  back- 
lashing  wave.  There  was  a  heavy  shock,  a 
pause,  and  then  Ken  felt  himself  lifted  high, 
while  a  huge  sheet  of  water  rose  fan-shape 
behind  the  buffer  in  the  stern.  Walls  and 
sky  and  tree  faded  under  a  watery  curtain. 
Then  the  boat  shot  on  again;  the  light  came, 
the  sky  shone,  and  Ken  saw  his  palm-tree. 

118 


LOST! 

He  pulled  hard  on  the  right  oar  to  get  the 
stern  back  in  line.  Another  heavy  shock, 
a  pause,  a  blinding  shower  of  water,  and  then 
the  downward  rush!  Ken  got  a  fleeting 
glimpse  of  his  guiding  mark,  and  sunk  the  left 
oar  deep  for  a  strong  stroke.  The  beating 
of  the  waves  upon  the  upraised  oars  almost 
threw  him  out  of  the  boat.  The  wrestling 
waters  hissed  and  bellowed.  Down  the  boat 
shot  and  up,  to  pound  and  pound,  and  then 
again  shoot  down.  Through  the  pall  of  mist 
and  spray  Ken  always  got  a  glimpse,  quick  as 
lightning,  of  the  palm-tree,  and  like  a  demon 
he  plunged  in  his  oars  to  keep  the  boat  in 
line.  He  was  only  dimly  conscious  of  the 
awfulness  of  the  place.  But  he  was  not 
afraid.  He  felt  his  action  as  being  inspirited 
by  something  grim  and  determined.  He  was 
fighting  the  river. 

All  at  once  a  grating  jar  behind  told  him 
the  bow  had  hit  a  stone  or  a  wall.  He  did 
not  dare  look  back.  The  most  fleeting  in- 
stant of  time  might  be  the  one  for  him  to 
see  his  guiding  mark.  Then  the  boat  lurched 
under  him,  lifted  high  with  bow  up,  and 
lightened.  He  knew  Pepe  had  been  pitched 
overboard. 

;  In  spite  of  the  horror  of  the  moment,  Ken 
realized  that  the  lightening  of  the  boat  made 

9  "9 


WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

it  more  buoyant,  easier  to  handle.  That 
weight  in  the  bow  had  given  him  an  un- 
balanced craft.  But  now  one  stroke  here  and 
one  there  kept  the  stern  straight.  The  palm- 
tree  loomed  higher  and  closer  through  the 
brightening  mist.  Ken  no  longer  felt  the 
presence  «f  the  walls.  The  thunderous  roar 
had  begun  to  lose  some  of  its  volume. 
Then  with  &  crash  through  a  lashing  wave 
the  boat  raced  out  into  the  open  light.  Ken 
saw  a  beautiful  foam-covered  pool,  down 
toward  which  the  boat  kept  bumping  over  a 
succession  of  diminishing  waves. 

He  gave  a  start  of  joy  to  see  Pepe's  black 
head  bobbing  in  the  choppy  channel.  Pepe 
had  beat  the  boat  to  the  outlet.  He  was 
swimming  easily,  and  evidently  he  had  not 
been  injured. 

Ken  turned  the  bow  toward  him.  But 
.Pepe  did  not  need  any  help,  and  a  few  more 
strokes  put  him  in  shallow  water.  Ken  dis- 
covered that  the  boat,  once  out  of  the  current, 
was  exceedingly  loggy  and  hard  to  row.  It 
was  half  full  of  water.  Ken's  remaining 
strength  went  to  pull  ashore,  and  there  he 
staggered  out  and  dropped  on  the  rocky 
bank. 

The  blue  sky  was  very  beautiful  and  sweet 
to  look  at  just  then.  But  Ken  had  to  close 

I2O 


LOST! 

his  eyes.  He  did  not  have  strength  left  to 
keep  them  open.  For  a  while  all  seemed  dim 
and  obscure  to  him.  Then  he  felt  a  dizziness, 
which  in  turn  succeeded  to  a  racing  riot  of 
his  nerves  and  veins.  His  heart  gradually 
resumed  a  normal  beat,  and  his  bursting 
lungs  seemed  to  heal.  A  sickening  languor 
lay  upon  him.  He  could  not  hold  little  stones 
which  he  felt  under  his  fingers.  He  could 
not  raise  his  hands.  The  life  appeared  to 
have  gone  from  his  legs. 

All  this  passed,  at  length,  and,  hearing  Hal's 
voice,  Ken  sat  up.  The  outfit  was  drying 
in  the  sun;  Pepe  was  bailing  out  the  boat; 
George  was  wiping  his  guns ;  and  Hal  was  nurs- 
ing a  very  disheveled  little  racoon. 

"You  can  bring  on  any  old  thing  now,  for 
all  I  care,"  said  Hal.  "I'd  shoot  Lachine 
Rapids  with  Ken  at  the  oars." 

"He's  a  fine  boatman,"  replied  George. 
"Weren't  you  scared  when  we  were  in  the 
middle  of  that  darned  place?" 

"Me?    Naw!" 

"Well,  I  was  scared,  and  don't  you  forget 
it,"  said  Ken  to  them. 

"You  were  all  in,  Ken,"  replied  Hal. 
"Never  saw  you  so  tuckered  out.  The  day 
you  and  Prince  went  after  the  cougar  along 
that  canon  precipice — you  were  all  in  that 

121 


KEN  WARD   IN  THE   JUNGLE 

time.  George,  it  took  Ken  six  hours  to 
climb  out  of  that  hole." 

"Tell  me  about  it,"  said  George,  all  eyes. 

"No  stories  now,"  put  in  Ken.  "The 
sun  is  still  high.  We've  got  to  be  on  our 
way.  Let's  look  over  the  lay  of  the  land." 

Below  the  pool  was  a  bold,  rocky  bluff, 
round  which  the  river  split.  What  branch 
to  take  was  a  matter  of  doubt  and  anxiety 
to  Ken.  Evidently  this  bluff  was  an  island. 
It  had  a  yellow  front  and  long  bare  ledges 
leading  into  the  river. 

Ken  climbed  the  bluff,  accompanied  by  the 
boys,  and  found  it  covered  with  palm-trees. 
Up  there  everything  was  so  dry  and  hot 
that  it  did  not  seem  to  be  jungle  at  all.  Even 
the  palms  were  yellow  and  parched.  Pepe 
stood  the  heat,  but  the  others  could  not  en- 
dure it.  Ken  took  one  long  look  at  the  sur- 
rounding country,  so  wild  and  dry  and  still, 
and  then  led  the  way  down  the  loose,  dusty 
shelves. 

Thereupon  he  surveyed  the  right  branch 
of  the  river  and  followed  it  a  little  distance. 
The  stream  here  foamed  and  swirled  among 
jagged  rocks.  At  the  foot  of  this  rapid 
stretched  the  first  dead  water  Ken  had  en- 
countered for  miles.  A  flock  of  wild  geese 
rose  from  under  his  feet  and  flew  down-stream. 

122 


LOST! 

"Geese!"  exclaimed  Ken.  "I  wonder  if 
that  means  we  are  getting  down  near  lagoons 
or  big  waters.  George,  wild  geese  don't 
frequent  little  streams,  do  they?" 

"There's  no  telling  where  you'll  find  them 
in  this  country,"  answered  George.  "I've 
chased  them  right  in  our  orange  groves." 

They  returned  to  look  at  the  left  branch 
of  the  river.  It  was  open  and  one  continuous 
succession  of  low  steps.  That  would  have 
decided  Ken  even  if  the  greater  volume  of 
water  had  not  gone  down  on  this  left  side. 
As  far  as  he  could  see  was  a  wide,  open  river 
running  over  little  ledges.  It  looked  to  be 
the  easiest  and  swiftest  navigation  he  had 
come  upon,  and  so  indeed  it  proved.  The 
water  was  swift,  and  always  dropped  over 
some  ledge  in  a  rounded  fall  that  was  safe 
for  him  to  shoot.  It  was  great  fun  going 
over  these  places.  The  boys  hung  their 
feet  over  the  gunwales  most  of  the  time, 
sliding  them  along  the  slippery  ledge  or  giving 
a  kick  to  help  the  momentum.  When  they 
came  to  a  fall,  Ken  would  drop  off  the  bow, 
hold  the  boat  back  and  swing  it  straight, 
then  jump  in,  and  over  it  would  go — souse! 

There  were  so  many  of  these  ledges,  and 
they  were  so  close  together,  that  going  over 
them  grew  to  be  a  habit.  It  induced  care- 

123 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

lessness.  The  boat  drifted  to  a  brow  of  a  fall 
full  four  feet  high.  Ken,  who  was  at  the  bow, 
leaped  off  just  in  time  to  save  the  boat.  He 
held  on  while  the  swift  water  surged  about 
his  knees.  He  yelled  for  the  boys  to  jump. 
As  the  stern  where  they  sat  was  already  over 
the  fall  it  was  somewhat  difficult  to  make  the 
boys  vacate  quickly  enough. 

"Tumble  out!  Quick!"  bawled  Ken.  "Do 
you  think  I'm  Samson?" 

Over  they  went,  up  to  their  necks  in  the 
boiling  foam,  and  not  a  second  too  soon,  for 
Ken  could  hold  the  boat  no  longer.  It  went 
over  smoothly,  just  dipping  the  stern  under 
water.  If  the  boys  had  remained  aboard, 
the  boat  would  have  swamped.  As  it  was, 
Pepe  managed  to  catch  the  rope,  which  Ken 
had  wisely  thrown  out,  and  he  drifted  down 
to  the  next  ledge.  Ken  found  this  nearly  as 
high  as  the  last  one.  So  he  sent  the  boys  be- 
low to  catch  the  boat.  This  worked  all 
right.  The  shelves  slanted  slightly,  with  the 
shallow  part  of  the  water  just  at  the  break  of 
the  ledge.  They  passed  half  a  dozen  of  these, 
making  good  time,  and  before  they  knew  it  were 
again  in  a  deep,  smooth  jungle  lane  with  bam- 
boo and  streamers  of  moss  waving  over  them. 

The  shade  was  cool,  and  Ken  settled  down 
in  the  stern-seat,  grateful  for  a  rest.  To  his 

124 


LOST! 

surprise,  he  did  not  see  a  bird.  The  jungle 
was  asleep.  Once  or  twice  Ken  fancied  he 
heard  the  tinkle  and  gurgle  of  water  running 
over  rocks.  The  boat  glided  along  silently, 
with  Pepe  rowing  leisurely,  George  asleep, 
Hal  dreaming. 

Ken  watched  the  beautiful  green  banks. 
They  were  high,  a  mass  of  big-leafed  vines, 
flowering  and  fragrant,  above  which  towered 
the  jungle  giants.  Ken  wanted  to  get  out 
and  study  those  forest  trees.  But  he  made 
no  effort  to  act  upon  his  good  intentions,  and 
felt  that  he  must  take  the  most  of  his  forestry 
study  at  long  range.  He  was  reveling  in  the 
cool  recesses  under  the  leaning  cypresses,  in 
the  soft  swish  of  bearded  moss,  and  the 
strange  rustle  of  palms,  in  the  dreamy  hum 
of  the  resting  jungle,  when  his  pleasure  was 
brought  to  an  abrupt  end. 

"Santa  Maria!"  yelled  Pepe. 

George  woke  up  with  a  start.  Hal  had 
been  jarred  out  of  his  day-dream,  and  looked 
resentful.  Ken  gazed  about  him  with  the 
feeling  of  a  man  going  into  a  trance,  instead 
of  coming  out  of  one. 

The  boat  was  fast  on  a  mud-bank.  That 
branch  of  the  river  ended  right  there.  The 
boys  had  come  all  those  miles  to  run  into  a 
blind  pocket. 

125 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

Ken's  glance  at  the  high  yellow  bank, 
here  crumbling  and  bare,  told  him  there  was 
no  outlet.  He  had  a  sensation  of  blank  dis- 
may. 

"Gee!"  exclaimed  Hal,  softly. 

George  rubbed  his  eyes ;  and,  searching  for 
a  cigarette,  he  muttered:  "We're  lost!  I  said 
it  was  coming  to  us.  We've  got  to  go  back!" 


XI 

AN  ARMY  OF   SNAKES 

FOR  a  moment  Ken  Ward  was  utterly 
crushed  under  the  weight  of  this  sudden 
blow.  It  was  so  sudden  that  he  had  no  time 
to  think;  or  his  mind  was  clamped  on  the 
idea  of  attempting  to  haul  the  boat  up  thslt 
long,  insurmountable  series  of  falls. 

"It  '11  be  an  awful  job,"  burst  out  Hal. 

No  doubt  in  the  mind  of  each  boy  was  the 
same  idea — the  long  haul,  wading  over  slip- 
pery rocks;  the  weariness  of  pushing  legs 
against  the  swift  current;  the  packing  of  sup- 
plies uphill;  and  then  the  toil  of  lifting  the 
heavy  boat  up  over  a  fall. 

"Mucho  malo,"  said  Pepe,  and  he  groaned. 
That  was  significant,  coming  from  a  mozo, 
who  thought  nothing  of  rowing  forty  miles 
in  a  day. 

"Oh,  but  it's  tough  luck,"  cried  Ken. 
"Why  didn't  I  choose  the  right  branch  of  this 
pesky  river?" 

"I  think  you  used  your  head  at  that," 
127 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

said  Hal.  "Most  of  the  water  came  down 
on  this  side.  Where  did  it  go?" 

Hal  had  hit  the  vital  question,  and  it 
cleared  Ken's  brain. 

"Hal,  you're  talking  sense.  Where  did 
that  water  go?  It  couldn't  all  have  sunk  into 
the  earth.  We'll  find  out.  We  won't  try 
to  go  back.  We  can't  go  back." 

Pepe  shoved  off  the  oozy  mud,  and,  re- 
luctantly, as  if  he  appreciated  the  dilemma,  he 
turned  the  boat  and  rowed  along  the  shore. 
As  soon  as  Ken  had  recovered  somewhat  he 
decided  there  must  be  an  outlet  which  he  had 
missed.  This  reminded  him  that  at  a  point 
not  far  back  he  had  heard  the  tinkle  and  gurgle 
of  unseen  water  flowing  over  rocks. 

He  directed  Pepe  to  row  slowly  along  the 
bank  that  he  thought  was  the  island  side. 
As  they  glided  under  the  drooping  bamboos 
and  silky  curtains  of  moss  George  began  to 
call  out:  "Low  bridge!  Low  bridge!"  Fora 
boy  who  was  forever  voicing  ill-omened  sug- 
gestions as  to  what  might  soon  happen  he 
was  extraordinarily  cheerful. 

There  were  places  where  all  had  to  lie 
flat  and  others  where  Pepe  had  to  use  his 
machete.  This  disturbed  the  siesta  of  many 
aquatic  birds,  most  of  which  flew  swiftly 
away.  But  there  were  many  of  the  gray- 

128 


AN   ARMY   OF   SNAKES 

breasted,  blue-backed  bitterns  that  did  not 
take  to  flight.  These  croaked  dismally,  and 
looked  down  upon  the  boys  with  strange, 
protruding  eyes. 

"Those  darn  birds  '11  give  me  the  willies," 
declared  Hal.  "George,  you  just  look  like 
them  when  you  croak  about  what's  coming 
to  us." 

"Just  wait!"  retorted  George.  "It  '11  come, 
all  right.  Then  I'll  have  the  fun  of  seeing 
you  scared  silly." 

"What!  You'll  not  do  anything  of  the 
kind!"  cried  Hal,  hotly.  "I've  been  in  places 
where  such — such  a  skinny  little  sap-head  as 
you—" 

"Here,  you  kids  stop  wrangling,"  ordered 
Ken,  who  sensed  hostilities  in  the  air.  ' '  We've 
got  trouble  enough." 

Suddenly  Ken  signaled  Pepe  to  stop  rowing. 

"Boys,  I  hear  running  water.  Aha !  Here's 
a  current.  See — it's  making  right  under  this 
bank." 

Before  them  was  a  high  wall  of  broad- 
leaved  vines,  so  thick  that  nothing  could  be 
seen  through  them.  Apparently  this  luxu- 
riant canopy  concealed  the  bank.  Pepe  poked 
an  oar  into  it,  but  found  nothing  solid. 

"Pepe,  cut  a  way  through.  We've  got 
to  see  where  this  water  runs." 

129 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

It  was  then  that  Ken  came  to  a  full  ap- 
preciation of  a  machete.  He  had  often  fancied 
it  a  much  less  serviceable  tool  than  an  ax. 
Pepe  flashed  the  long,  bright  blade  up,  down, 
and  around,  and  presently  the  boat  was  its 
own  length  in  a  green  tunnel.  Pepe  kept  on 
slashing  while  Ken  poled  the  boat  in  and  the 
other  boys  dumped  the  cut  foliage  overboard. 
Soon  they  got  through  this  mass  of  hanging 
vine  and  creeper.  Much  to  Ken's  surprise 
and  delight,  he  found  no  high  bank,  but  low, 
flat  ground,  densely  wooded,  through  which 
ran  a  narrow,  deep  outlet  of  the  river. 

"By  all  that's  lucky!"  ejaculated  Ken. 

George  and  Hal  whooped  their  pleasure, 
and  Pepe  rubbed  his  muscular  hands.  Then 
all  fell  silent.  The  deep,  penetrating  silence 
of  that  jungle  was  not  provocative  of  speech. 
The  shade  was  so  black  that  when  a  ray  of 
sunlight  did  manage  to  pierce  the  dense 
canopy  overhead  it  resembled  a  brilliant 
golden  spear.  A  few  lofty  palms  and  a  few 
clumps  of  bamboo  rather  emphasized  the 
lack  of  these  particular  species  in  this  forest. 
Nor  was  there  any  of  the  familiar  streaming 
moss  hanging  from  the  trees.  This  glen  was 
green,  cool,  dark.  It  did  not  smell  exactly 
swampy,  but  rank,  like  a  place  where  many 
water  plants  were  growing. 

130 


AN   ARMY   OF   SNAKES 

The  outlet  was  so  narrow  that  Ken  was  not 
able  to  use  the  oars.  Still,  as  the  current 
was  swift,  the  boat  went  along  rapidly.  He 
saw  a  light  ahead  and  heard  the  babble  of 
water.  The  current  quickened,  and  the  boat 
drifted  suddenly  upon  the  edge  of  an  oval 
glade,  where  the  hot  sun  beat  down.  A 
series  of  abrupt  mossy  benches,  over  which 
the  stream  slid  almost  noiselessly,  blocked 
further  progress. 

The  first  thing  about  this  glade  that  Ken 
noted  particularly,  after  the  difficulties  pre- 
sented by  the  steep  steps,  was  the  multitude 
of  snakes  sunning  themselves  along  the  line 
of  further  progress. 

"Boys,  it  '11  be  great  wading  down  there, 
hey?"  he  queried. 

Pepe  grumbled  for  the  first  time  on  the 
trip.  Ken  gathered  from  the  native's  looks 
and  speech  that  he  did  not  like  snakes. 

"Watch  me  peg  'em!"  yelled  Hal,  and  he 
began  to  throw  stones  with  remarkable  ac- 
curacy. "Hike,  you  brown  sons-of-guns !" 

George,  not  to  be  outdone,  made  a  dive 
for  his  .22  and  began  to  pop  as  if  he  had  no 
love  for  snakes.  Ken  had  doubts  about  this 
species.  The  snakes  were  short,  thick,  dull 
brown  in  color,  and  the  way  they  slipped 
into  the  stream  proved  they  were  water- 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

snakes.  Ken  had  never  read  of  a  brown  water- 
moccasin,  so  he  doubted  that  these  belonged 
to  that  poisonous  family.  Anyway,  snakes 
were  the  least  of  his  troubles. 

"  Boys,  you're  doing  fine,"  he  said.  "  There 
are  about  a  thousand  snakes  there,  and  you've 
hit  about  six." 

He  walked  down  through  the  glade  into  the 
forest,  and  was  overjoyed  to  hear  once  more 
the  heavy  roar  of  rapids.  He  went  on.  The 
timber  grew  thinner,  and  light  penetrated  the 
jungle.  Presently  he  saw  the  gleam  of  water 
through  the  trees.  Then  he  hurried  back. 

"All  right,  boys,"  he  shouted.  "Here's 
the  river." 

The  boys  were  so  immensely  relieved  that 
packing  the  outfit  round  the  waterfalls  was 
work  they  set  about  with  alacrity.  Ken, 
who  had  on  his  boots,  broke  a  trail  through 
the  ferns  and  deep  moss.  Pepe,  being  bare- 
foot, wasted  time  looking  for  snakes.  George 
teased  him.  But  Pepe  was  deadly  serious. 
And  the  way  he  stepped  and  looked  made 
Ken  thoughtful.  He  had  made  his  last  trip 
with  supplies,  and  was  about  to  start  back 
to  solve  the  problem  of  getting  the  boat 
down,  when  a  hoarse  yell  resounded  through 
the  sleeping  jungle.  Parrots  screeched,  and 
other  birds  set  up  a  cackling. 

132 


AN   ARMY   OF   SNAKES 

Ken  bounded  up  the  slope. 

"Santa  Maria!"  cried  Pepe. 

Ken  followed  the  direction  indicated  by 
Pepe's  staring  eyes  and  trembling  finger. 
Hanging  from  a  limb  of  a  tree  was  a  huge 
black-snake.  It  was  as  thick  as  Ken's  leg. 
The  branch  upon  which  it  poised  its  neck 
so  gracefully  was  ten  feet  high,  and  the  tail 
curled  into  the  ferns  on  the  ground. 

"Boys,  it's  one  of  the  big  fellows,"  cried 
Ken. 

"Didn't  I  tell  you!"  yelled  George,  running 
down  for  his  gun. 

Hal  seemed  rooted  to  the  spot.  Pepe 
began  to  jabber.  Ken  watched  the  snake, 
and  felt  instinctively  from  its  sinister  looks 
that  it  was  dangerous.  George  came  running 
back  with  his  .32  and  waved  it  in  the  air  as 
he  shot.  He  was  so  frightened  that  he  for- 
got to  aim.  Ken  took  the  rifle  from  him. 

"You  can't  hit  him  with  this.  Run  after 
your  shotgun.  Quick!" 

But  the  sixteen-gage  was  clogged  with  a 
shell  that  would  not  eject.  Ken's  guns  were 
in  their  cases. 

"Holy  smoke!"  cried  George.  "He's  com- 
ing down." 

The  black-snake  moved  his  body  and  began 
to  slide  toward  the  tree-trunk. 

133 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

Ken  shot  twice  at  the  head  of  the  snake. 
It  was  a  slow-swaying  mark  hard  to  hit. 
The  reptile  stopped  and  poised  wonderfully 
on  the  limb.  He  was  not  coiled  about  it, 
but  lay  over  it  with  about  four  feet  of  neck 
waving,  swaying  to  and  fro.  He  watched 
the  boys,  and  his  tongue,  like  a  thin,  black 
streak,  darted  out  viciously. 

Ken  could  not  hit  the  head,  so  he  sent  a 
bullet  through  the  thick  part  of  the  body. 
Swift  as  a  gleam  the  snake  darted  from  the 
limb. 

"Santa  Maria!"  yelled  Pepe,  and  he  ran  off. 

"Look  out,  boys,"  shouted  Ken.  He 
picked  up  Pepe's  machete  and  took  to  his 
heels.  George  and  Hal  scrambled  before  him. 
They  ran  a  hundred  yards  or  more,  and  Ken 
halted  in  an  open  rocky  spot.  He  was  angry, 
and  a  little  ashamed  that  he  had  run.  The 
snake  did  not  pursue,  and  probably  was  as 
badly  frightened  as  the  boys  had  been.  Pepe 
stopped  some  distance  away,  and  Hal  and 
George  came  cautiously  back. 

"I  don't  see  anything  of  him,"  said  Ken. 
"I'm  going  back." 

He  walked  slowly,  keeping  a  sharp  outlook, 
and,  returning  to  the  glade,  found  blood-stains 
under  the  tree.  The  snake  had  disappeared 
without  leaving  a  trail. 

134 


AN   ARMY   OF   SNAKES 

"If  I'd  had  my  shotgun  ready!"  exclaimed 
Ken,  in  disgust.  And  he  made  a  note  that  in 
the  future  he  would  be  prepared  to  shoot. 

"Wasn't  he  a  whopper,  Ken?"  said  Hal. 
"We  ought  to  have  got  his  hide.  What  a 
fine  specimen!" 

"Boys,  you  drive  away  those  few  little 
snakes  while  I  figure  on  a  way  to  get  the  boat 
down." 

"Not  on  your  life!"  replied  Hal. 

George  ably  sustained  Hal's  objection. 

"Mucho  malo,"  said  Pepe,  and  then  added 
a  loud  "No"  in  English. 

"All  right,  my  brave  comrades,"  rejoined 
Ken,  scornfully.  "As  I've  not  done  any  work 
yet  or  taken  any  risks,  I'll  drive  the  snakes 
away." 

With  Pepe's  machete  he  cut  a  long  forked 
pole,  trimmed  it,  and,  armed  with  this  weapon, 
he  assaulted  the  rolls  and  bands  and  balls 
of  brown  snakes.  He  stalked  boldly  down 
upon  them,  pushed  and  poled,  and  even 
kicked  them  off  the  mossy  banks.  Hal 
could  not  stand  that,  and  presently  he  got 
a  pole  and  went  to  Ken's  assistance. 

"Who's  hollering  now?"  he  yelled  to  George. 

Whereupon  George  cut  a  long  branch  and 
joined  the  battle.  They  whacked  and  threshed 
and  pounded,  keeping  time  with  yells.  Every- 
10  *35 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

where  along  the  wet  benches  slipped  and 
splashed  the  snakes.  But  after  they  were 
driven  into  the  water  they  did  not  swim  away. 
They  dove  under  the  banks  and  then  stretched 
out  their  pointed  heads  from  the  dripping 
edge  of  moss. 

"Say,  fellows,  we're  making  it  worse  for 
us,"  declared  Ken.  "See,  the  brown  devils 
won't  swim  off.  We'd  better  have  left  them 
on  the  bank.  Let's  catch  one  and  see  if  he'll 
bite." 

He  tried  to  pick  up  one  on  his  pole,  but 
it  slipped  off.  George  fished  after  another. 
Hal  put  the  end  of  his  stick  down  inside  the 
coil  of  still  another  and  pitched  it.  The 
brown,  wriggling,  wet  snake  shot  straight  at 
the  unsuspecting  George,  and  struck  him  and 
momentarily  wound  about  him. 

"Augrrh!"  bawled  George,  flinging  off  the 
reptile  and  leaping  back.  "What  'd  you  do 
that  for?  I'll  punch  you!" 

"George,  he  didn't  mean  it,"  said  Ken. 
"It  was  an  accident.  Come  on,  let's  tease 
that  fellow  and  see  if  he'll  bite." 

The  snake  coiled  and  raised  his  flat  head 
and  darted  a  wicked  tongue  out  and  watched 
with  bright,  beady  eyes,  but  he  did  not 
strike.  Ken  went  as  close  as  he  thought 
safe  and  studied  the  snake. 

136 


AN   ARMY   OF   SNAKES 

''Boys,  his  head  isn't  a  triangle,  and  there 
are  no  little  pits  under  his  eyes.  Those  are 
two  signs  of  a  poisonous  snake.  I  don't 
believe  this  fellow's  one." 

"He'll  be  a  dead  snake,  b'  gosh,"  replied 
George,  and  he  fell  to  pounding  it  with  his 
pole. 

"Don't  smash  him.  I  want  the  skin," 
yelled  Hal. 

Ken  pondered  on  the  situation  before  him. 

"  Come,  the  sooner  we  get  at  this  the  better," 
he  said. 

There  was  a  succession  of  benches  through 
which  the  stream  zigzagged  and  tumbled. 
These  benches  were  rock  ledges  over  which 
moss  had  grown  fully  a  foot  thick,  and  they 
were  so  oozy  and  slippery  that  it  was  no  easy 
task  to  walk  upon  them.  Then  they  were 
steep,  so  steep  that  it  was  remarkable  how 
the  water  ran  over  them  so  smoothly,  with 
very  little  noise  or  break.  It  was  altogether 
a  new  kind  of  waterfall  to  Ken.  But  if  the 
snakes  had  not  been  hidden  there,  navigation 
would  have  presented  an  easier  problem. 

"Come  on  boys,  alongside  now,  and  hold 
back,"  he  ordered,  gripping  the  bow. 

Exactly  what  happened  the  next  few  seconds 
was  not  clear  in  his  mind.  There  was  a  rush, 
and  all  were  being  dragged  by  the  boat. 

137 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

The  glade  seemed  to  whizz  past.  There  were 
some  sodden  thumps,  a  great  splashing,  a  check 
— and  lo !  they  were  over  several  benches.  It 
was  the  quickest  and  easiest  descent  he  had 
ever  made  down  a  steep  waterfall. 

"Fine!"  ejaculated  George,  wiping  the  ooze 
from  his  face. 

"Yes,  it  was  fine,"  Ken  replied.  "But 
unless  this  boat  has  wings  something  '11  hap- 
pen soon." 

Below  was  a  long,  swift  curve  of  water, 
very  narrow  and  steep,  with  a  moss-covered 
rock  dividing  the  lower  end.  Ken  imagined 
if  there  was  a  repetition  of  the  first  descent 
the  boat  would  be  smashed  on  that  rock. 
He  ordered  Pepe,  who  was  of  course  the  strong- 
est, to  go  below  and  jump  to  the  rock.  There 
he  might  prevent  a  collision. 

Pepe  obeyed,  but  as  he  went  he  yelled  and 
doubled  up  in  contortions  as  he  leaped  over 
snakes  in  the  moss. 

Then  gently,  gingerly  the  boys  started  the 
boat  off  the  bench,  where  it  had  lodged. 
George  was  at  the  stern,  Ken  and  Hal  at  the 
bow.  Suddenly  Hal  shrieked  and  pumped 
straight  up,  to  land  in  the  boat. 

"Snakes!"  he  howled. 
"Give  us  a  rest!"  cried  Ken,  in  disgust. 
The  boat  moved  as  if  instinct  with  life. 
138 


KEN    SHOT    TWICE    AT   THE    HEAD   OF    THE    SNAKE 


AN   ARMY   OF    SNAKES 

It  dipped,  then — wheeze!  it  dove  over  the 
bench.  Hal  was  thrown  off  his  feet,  fell 
back  on  the  gunwale,  and  thence  into  the 
snaky  moss.  George  went  sprawling  face 
downward  into  the  slimy  ooze,  and  Ken  was 
jerked  clear  off  the  bench  into  the  stream. 
He  got  his  footing  and  stood  firm  in  water  to 
his  waist,  and  he  had  the  bow -rope  coiled 
round  his  hands. 

"Help!  Help!"  he  yelled,  as  he  felt  the 
dragging  weight  too  much  for  him. 

If  Ken  retarded  the  progress  of  the  boat  at 
all,  it  was  not  much.  George  saw  his  distress 
and  the  danger  menacing  the  boat,  and  he 
leaped  valiantly  forward.  As  he  dashed  down 
a  slippery  slant  his  feet  flew  up  higher  than 
where  his  head  had  been;  he  actually  turned 
over  in  the  air,  and  fell  with  a  great  sop. 

Hal  had  been  trying  to  reach  Ken,  but 
here  he  stopped  and  roared  with  laughter. 

Despite  Ken's  anger  and  fear  of  snakes, 
and  his  greater  fear  for  the  boat,  he  likewise 
had  to  let  out  a  peal  of  laughter.  That 
tumble  of  George's  was  great.  Then  Ken's 
footing  gave  way  and  he  went  down.  His 
mouth  filled  with  nasty  water,  nearly  stran- 
gling him.  He  was  almost  blinded,  too.  His 
arms  seemed  to  be  wrenched  out  of  their 
sockets,  and  he  felt  himself  bumping  over 

139 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

moss-covered  rocks  as  soft  as  cushions.  Slimy 
ropes  or  roots  of  vegetation,  that  felt  like 
snakes,  brushed  his  face  and  made  him  cold 
and  sick.  It  was  impossible  to  hold  the  boat 
any  longer.  He  lodged  against  a  stone,  and 
the  swift  water  forced  him  upon  it.  Blinking 
and  coughing,  he  stuck  fast. 

Ken  saw  the  boat  headed  like  a  dart  for 
the  rock  where  Pepe  stood. 

"Let  'er  go!"  yelled  Ken.  "Don't  try  to 
stop  her.  Pepe,  you'll  be  smashed!" 

Pepe  acted  like  a  man  determined  to  make 
up  for  past  cowardice.  He  made  a  great  show 
of  brave  intentions.  He  was  not  afraid  of  a 
boat.  He  braced  himself  and  reached  out 
with  his  brawny  arms.  Ken  feared  for  the 
obstinate  native's  life,  for  the  boat  moved 
with  remarkable  velocity. 

At  the  last  second  Pepe's  courage  vanished. 
He  turned  tail  to  get  out  of  the  way.  But 
he  slipped.  The  boat  shot  toward  him  and 
the  blunt  stern  struck  him  with  a  dull  thud. 
Pepe  sailed  into  the  air,  over  the  rock,  and 
went  down  cleaving  the  water. 

The  boat  slipped  over  the  stone  as  easily 
as  if  it  had  been  a  wave  and,  gliding  into  still 
water  below,  lodged  on  the  bank. 

Ken  crawled  out  of  the  stream,  and  when 
he  ascertained  that  no  one  was  injured  he 

140 


AN   ARMY   OF    SNAKES 

stretched  himself  on  the  ground  and  gave  up 
to  mirth.  Pepe  resembled  a  drowned  rat; 
Hal  was  an  object  to  wonder  at;  and  George, 
in  his  coating  of  slime  and  with  strings  of 
moss  in  his  hair,  was  the  funniest  thing  Ken 
had  ever  seen.  It  was  somewhat  of  a  sur- 
prise to  him  to  discover,  presently,  that  the 
boys  were  convulsed  with  fiendish  glee  over 
the  way  he  himself  looked. 

By  and  by  they  recovered,  and,  with  many 
a  merry  jest  and  chuckle  of  satisfaction,  they 
repacked  the  boat  and  proceeded  on  their 
way.  No  further  obstacle  hindered  them. 
They  drifted  out  of  the  shady  jungle  into  the 
sunlit  river. 

In  half  a  mile  of  drifting  the  heat  of  the 
sun  dried  the  boys'  clothes.  The  water  was 
so  hot  that  it  fairly  steamed.  Once  more  the 
boat  entered  a  placid  aisle  over  which  the 
magnificent  gray- wreathed  cypresses  bowed, 
and  the  west  wind  waved  long  ribbons  of 
moss,  and  wild  fowl  winged  reluctant  flight. 

Ken  took  advantage  of  this  tranquil  stretch 
of  river  to  work  on  his  map.  He  realized  that 
he  must  use  every  spare  moment  and  put 
down  his  drawings  and  notes  as  often  as  time 
and  travel  permitted.  It  had  dawned  on 
Ken  that  rapids  and  snakes,  and  all  the  dan- 
gers along  the  river,  made  his  task  of  ob- 

141 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

servation  and  study  one  apt  to  be  put  into 
eclipse  at  times.  Once  or  twice  he  landed 
on  shore  to  climb  a  bluff,  and  was  pleased 
each  time  to  see  that  he  had  lined  a  compara- 
tively true  course  on  his  map.  He  had 
doubts  of  its  absolute  accuracy,  yet  he  could 
not  help  having  pride  in  his  work.  So  far 
so  good,  he  thought,  and  hoped  for  good- 
fortune  farther  down  the  river. 


XII 

CATCHING   STRANGE   FISH 

DEYOND  a  bend  in  the  river  the  boys 
*— '  came  upon  an  island  with  a  narrow, 
shaded  channel  on  one  side,  a  wide  shoal  on 
the  other,  and  a  group  of  huge  cypresses  at 
the  up-stream  end. 

"Looks  good  to  me,"   said  Hal. 

The  instant  Ken  saw  the  island  he  knew  it 
was  the  place  he  had  long  been  seeking  to 
make  a  permanent  camp  for  a  few  days. 
They  landed,  to  find  an  ideal  camping  site. 
The  ground  under  the  cypresses  was  flat, 
dry,  and  covered  with  short  grass.  Not  a  ray 
of  sunlight  penetrated  the  foliage.  A  pile 
of  driftwood  had  lodged  against  one  of  the 
trees,  and  this  made  easy  the  question  of 
fire-wood. 

"Great!"  exclaimed  Ken.  "Come  on,  let's 
look  over  the  ground." 

The  island  was  about  two  hundred  yards 
long,  and  the  lower  end  was  hidden  by  a 
growth  of  willows.  Bursting  through  this, 

143 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

the  boys  saw  a  weedy  flat  leading  into  a  wide, 
shallow  back-eddy.  Great  numbers  of  ducks 
were  sporting  and  feeding.  The  stones  of 
the  rocky  shore  were  lined  with  sleeping  ducks. 
Herons  of  all  colors  and  sizes  waded  about, 
or  slept  on  one  leg.  Snipe  ran  everywhere. 
There  was  a  great  squawking  and  flapping  of 
wings.  But  at  least  half  the  number  of  water- 
fowl were  too  tame  or  too  lazy  to  fly.  ; 

Ken  returned  to  camp  with  his  comrades, 
all  highly  elated  over  the  prospects.  The 
best  feature  about  this  beautiful  island  was 
the  absence  of  ticks  and  snakes. 

"Boys,  this  is  the  place,"  said  Ken.  "We'll 
hang  up  here  for  a  while.  Maybe  we  won't 
strike  another  such  nice  place  to  stay." 

So  they  unloaded  the  boat,  taking  every- 
thing out,  and  proceeded  to  pitch  a  camp 
that  was  a  delight.  They  were  all  loud  in 
expressions  of  satisfaction.  Then  Pepe  set 
about  leisurely  peeling  potatoes;  George  took 
his  gun  and  slipped  off  toward  the  lower  end 
of  the  island;  Hal  made  a  pen  for  his  racoon, 
and  then  more  pens,  as  if  he  meant  to  capture 
a  menagerie;  and  Ken  made  a  comfortable 
lounging-bed  under  a  cypress.  He  wanted 
to  forget  that  nagging  worry  as  to  farther 
descent  of  the  river,  and  to  enjoy  this  place. 

"Bang!"  went  George's  sixteen  -  gage.  A 
144 


CATCHING   STRANGE    FISH 

loud  whirring  of  wings  followed,  and  the  air 
was  full  of  ducks. 

"Never  touched  one!"  yelled  Hal,  in  taunt- 
ing voice. 

A  flock  of  teal  skimmed  the  water  and 
disappeared  up-stream.  The  shot  awakened 
parrots  in  the  trees,  where  for  a  while  there 
was  clamor.  Ken  saw  George  wade  out 
into  the  shoal  and  pick  up  three  ducks. 

" Pot-shot!"  exclaimed  Hal,  disgustedly. 
"Why  couldn't  he  be  a  sport  and  shoot  them 
on  the  fly?" 

George  crossed  to  the  opposite  shore  and, 
climbing  a  bare  place,  stood  looking  before  him. 

"Hey,  George,  don't  go  far,"  called  Ken. 

"Fine  place  over  here,"  replied  George, 
and,  waving  his  hand,  he  passed  into  the 
bushes  out  of  sight. 

Ken  lay  back  upon  his  blanket  with  a 
blissful  sense  of  rest  and  contentment.  Many 
a  time  he  had  lain  so,  looking  up  through  the 
broad  leaves  of  a  sycamore  or  the  lacy  foliage 
of  a  birch  or  the  delicate  crisscross  of  mil- 
lions of  pine  needles.  This  overhead  canopy, 
however,  was  different.  Only  here  and  there 
could  he  catch  little  slivers  of  blue  sky.  The 
graceful  streamers  of  exquisite  mess  hung 
like  tassels  of  silver.  In  the  dead  stillness 
of  noonday  they  seemed  to  float  curved  in  the 

us 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

shape  in  which  the  last  soft  breeze  had  left 
them.  High  upon  a  branch  he  saw  a  red- 
headed parrot  hanging  back  downward,  after 
the  fashion  of  a  monkey.  Then  there  were 
two  parrots  asleep  in  the  fork  of  a  branch. 
It  was  the  middle  of  the  day,  and  all  things 
seemed  tired  and  sleepy.  The  deep  channel 
murmured  drowsily,  and  the  wide  expanse 
of  river  on  the  other  side  lapped  lazily  at  the 
shore.  The  only  other  sound  was  the  mourn- 
ing of  turtle-doves,  one  near  and  another  far 
away.  Again  the  full  richness,  the  mellow 
sweetness  of  this  song  struck  Ken  forcibly. 
He  remembered  that  all  the  way  down  the 
river  he  had  heard  that  mournful  note.  It 
was  beautiful  but  melancholy.  Somehow  it 
made  him  think  that  it  had  broken  the  dreamy 
stillness  of  the  jungle  noonday  long,  long  ago. 
It  was  sweet  but  sad  and  old.  He  did  not 
like  to  hear  it. 

Ken  yielded  to  the  soothing  influence  of 
the  hour  and  fell  asleep.  When  he  awoke 
there  was  George,  standing  partially  undressed 
and  very  soberly  popping  ticks.  He  had  en- 
listed the  services  of  Pepe,  and,  to  judge  from 
the  remarks  of  both,  they  needed  still  more 
assistance. 

"Say,  Garrapato  George,  many  ticks  over 
there?" 

146 


CATCHING   STRANGE    FISH 


"Ticks!"  shouted  George,  wildly,  waving 
his  cigarette.  "Millions  of  'em!  And  there's 
— ouch!  Kill  that  one,  Pepe.  Wow!  he's 
as  big  as  a  penny.  There's  game  over  there. 
It's  a  flat  with  some  kind  of  berry  bush. 
There's  lots  of  trails.  I  saw  cat-tracks,  and  I 
scared  up  wild  turkeys — " 

"Turkeys!"  Ken  exclaimed,  eagerly. 

"You  bet.  I  saw  a  dozen.  How  they  can 
run!  I  didn't  flush  them.  Then  I  saw  a 
flock  of  those  black  and  white  ducks,  like  the 
big  fellow  I  shot.  They  were  feeding.  I 
believe  they're  Muscovy  ducks." 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know,  but  we  can  call 
them  that." 

"Well,  I'd  got  a  shot,  too,  but  I  saw  some 
gray  things  sneaking  in  the  bushes.  I  thought 
they  were  pigs,  so  I  got  out  of  there  quick." 

"You  mean  javelin?" 

1 '  Yep ,  I  mean  wild  pigs.  Oh !  We've  struck 
the  place  for  game.  I'll  bet  it's  coming  to  us." 

When  George  anticipated  pleasurable  events 
he  was  the  most  happy  of  companions.  It 
was  good  to  look  forward.  He  was  con- 
tinually expecting  things  to  happen;  he  was 
always  looking  ahead  with  great  eagerness. 
But  unfortunately  he  had  a  twist  of  mind 
toward  the  unfavorable  side  of  events,  and 
so  always  had  the  boys  fearful. 

147 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

"Well,  pigs  or  no  pigs,  ticks  or  no  ticks, 
we'll  hunt  and  fish,  and  see  all  there  is  to 
see,"  declared  Ken,  and  he  went  back  to  his 
lounging. 

When  he  came  out  of  that  lazy  spell, 
George  and  Hal  were  fishing.  George  had 
Ken's  rod,  and  it  happened  to  be  the  one 
Ken  thought  most  of. 

"Do  you  know  how  to  fish?"  he  asked. 

"I've  caught  tarpon  bigger'n  you,"  re- 
torted George. 

That  fact  was  indeed  too  much  for  Ken, 
and  he  had  nothing  to  do  but  risk  his  be- 
loved rod  in  George's  hands.  And  the  way 
George  swung  it  about,  slashed  branches  with 
it,  dropped  the  tip  in  the  water,  was  exceed- 
ingly alarming  to  Ken.  The  boy  would  break 
the  tip  in  a  minute.  Yet  Ken  could  not 
take  his  rod  away  from  a  boy  who  had  caught 
tarpon. 

There  were  fish  breaking  water.  Where  a 
little  while  before  the  river  had  been  smooth, 
now  it  was  ruffled  by  ravalo,  gar,  and  other 
fish  Pepe  could  not  name.  But  George  and 
Hal  did  not  get  a  bite.  They  tried  all  their 
artificial  flies  and  spoons  and  minnows,  then 
the  preserved  mullet,  and  finally  several 
kinds  of  meat. 

"Bah!  they  want  pie,"  said  Hal. 
148 


CATCHING   STRANGE    FISH 

For  Ken  Ward  to  see  little  and  big  fish 
capering  around  under  his  very  nose  and  not 
be  able  to  hook  one  was  exasperating.  He 
shot  a  small  fish,  not  unlike  a  pickerel,  and 
had  the  boys  bait  with  that.  Still  no  strike 
was  forthcoming. 

This  put  Ken  on  his  mettle.  He  rigged 
up  a  minnow  tackle,  and,  going  to  the  lower 
end  of  the  island,  he  tried  to  catch  some 
minnows.  There  were  plenty  of  them  in  the 
shallow  water,  but  they  would  not  bite. 
Finally  Ken  waded  in  the  shoal  and  turned 
over  stones.  He  found  some  snails  almost 
as  large  as  mussels,  and  with  these  he  hurried 
back  to  the  boys. 

"Here,  if  you  don't  get  a  bite  on  one  of 
these  I'm  no  fisherman,"  said  Ken.  "Try 
one." 

George  got  his  hands  on  the  new  bait  in 
advance  of  Hal  and  so  threw  his  hook  into 
the  water  first.  No  sooner  had  the  bait 
sunk  than  he  got  a  strong  pull. 

"There!    Careful  now,"  said  Ken. 

George  jerked  up,  hooking  a  fish  that  made 
the  rod  look  like  a  buggy-whip. 

"Give .me  the  rod,"  yelled  Ken,  trying  to 
take  it. 

"It's  my  fish,"  yelled  back  George. 

He  held  on  and  hauled  with  all  his  might. 
149 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

A  long,  finely  built  fish,  green  as  emerald, 
split  the  water  and  churned  it  into  foam. 
Then,  sweeping  out  in  strong  dash,  it  broke 
Ken's  rod  square  in  the  middle.  Ken  eyed 
the  wreck  with  sorrow,  and  George  with  no 
little  disapproval. 

"You  said  you  knew  how  to  fish,"  protested 
Ken. 

"Those  split -bamboo  rods  are  no  good," 
replied  George.  "They  won't  hold  a  fish." 

"George,  you're  a  grand  fisherman!"  ob- 
served Hal,  with  a  chuckle.  "Why,  you 
only  dreamed  you've  caught  tarpon." 

Just  then  Hal  had  a  tremendous  strike. 
He  was  nearly  hauled  off  the  bank.  But  he 
recovered  his  balance  and  clung  to  his  nodding 
rod.  Hal's  rod  was  heavy  cane,  and  his  line 
was  thick  enough  to  suit.  So  nothing  broke. 
The  little  brass  reel  buzzed  and  rattled. 

"I've  got  a  whale!"  yelled  Hal. 

"It's  a  big  gar — alligator-gar,"  said  George. 
"You  haven't  got  him.  He's  got  you." 

The  fish  broke  water,  showing  long,  open 
jaws  with  teeth  like  saw-teeth.  It  threshed 
about  and  broke  away.  Hal  reeled  in  to 
find  the  hook  straightened  out.  Then  George 
kindly  commented  upon  the  very  skilful 
manner  in  which  Hal  had  handled  the  gar. 
For  a  wonder  Hal  did  not  reply. 

150 


CATCHING    STRANGE    FISH 

By  four  o'clock,  when  Ken  sat  down  to 
supper,  he  was  so  thirsty  that  his  mouth 
puckered  as  dry  as  if  he  had  been  eating  green 
persimmons.  This  matter  of  thirst  had  be- 
come serious.  Twice  each  day  Ken  had 
boiled  a  pot  of  water,  into  which  he  mixed 
cocoa,  sugar,  and  condensed  milk,  and  begged 
the  boys  to  drink  that  and  nothing  else. 
Nevertheless  Pepe  and  George,  and  occasion- 
ally Hal,  would  drink  unboiled  water.  For 
this  meal  the  boys  had  venison  and  duck, 
and  canned  vegetables  and  fruit,  so  they 
fared  sumptuously. 

Pepe  pointed  to  a  string  of  Muscovy  ducks 
sailing  up  the  river.  George  had  a  good  shot 
at  the  tail  end  of  the  flock,  and  did  not  even 
loosen  a  feather.  Then  a  line  of  cranes  and 
herons  passed  over  the  island.  When  a 
small  bunch  of  teal  flew  by,  to  be  followed 
by  several  canvasbacks,  Ken  ran  for  his 
shotgun.  It  was  a  fine  hammerless,  a  hard- 
shooting  gun,  and  one  Ken  used  for  grouse- 
hunting.  In  his  hurry  he  grasped  a  handful 
of  the  first  shells  he  came  to  and,  when  he 
ran  to  the  river-bank,  found  they  were  loads 
of  small  shot.  He  decided  to  try  them 
anyhow. 

While  Pepe  leisurely  finished  the  supper 
Ken  and  George  and  Hal  sat  on  the  bank 

n  151 


KEN   WARD   IN  THE   JUNGLE 

watching  for  ducks.  Just  before  the  sun  went 
down  a  hard  wind  blew,  making  difficult 
shooting.  Every  few  moments  ducks  would 
whir  by.  George's  gun  missed  fire  often, 
and  when  it  did  work  all  right,  he  missed  the 
ducks.  To  Ken's  surprise  he  found  the 
load  of  small  shot  very  deadly.  He  could 
sometimes  reach  a  duck  at  eighty  yards. 
The  little  brown  ducks  and  teal  he  stopped  as 
if  they  had  hit  a  stone  wall.  He  dropped  a 
canvasback  with  the  sheer  dead  plunge 
that  he  liked.  Ken  thought  a  crippled  duck 
enough  to  make  a  hunter  quit  shooting. 
With  six  ducks  killed,  he  decided  to  lay  aside 
his  gun  for  that  time,  when  Pepe  pointed 
down  the  river. 

"Pato  real,"  he  said. 

Ken  looked  eagerly  and  saw  three  of  the 
big  black  ducks  flying  as  high  as  the  tree- 
tops  and  coming  fast.  Snapping  a  couple 
of  shells  in  the  gun,  Ken  stood  ready.  At 
the  end  of  the  island  two  of  the  ducks  wheeled 
to  the  left,  but  the  big  leader  came  on  like 
a  thunderbolt.  To  Ken  he  made  a  canvas- 
back  seem  slow.  Ken  caught  him  over  the 
sights  of  the  gun,  followed  him  up  till  he  was 
abreast  and  beyond;  then,  sweeping  a  little 
ahead  of  him,  Ken  pulled  both  triggers.  The 
Muscovy  swooped  up  and  almost  stopped 

152 


CATCHING   STRANGE    FISH 

in  his  flight  while  a  cloud  of  black  feathers 
puffed  away  on  the  wind.  He  sagged  a 
little,  recovered,  and  flew  on  as  strong  as  ever. 
The  small  shot  were  not  heavy  enough  to 
stop  him. 

"  We'll  need  big  loads  for  the  Muscovies 
and  the  turkeys,"  said  George. 

"We've  all  sizes  up  to  BB's,"  replied  Ken. 
"George,  let's  take  a  walk  over  there  where 
you  saw  the  turkeys.  It's  early  yet." 

Then  Pepe  told  George  if  they  wanted  to 
see  game  at  that  hour  the  thing  to  do  was  to 
sit  still  in  camp  and  watch  the  game  come 
down  to  the  river  to  drink.  And  he  pointed 
down-stream  to  a  herd  of  small  deer  quietly 
walking  out  on  the  bar. 

"After  all  the  noise  we  made!"  exclaimed 
Ken.  "Well, this  beats  me.  George, we'll  stay 
right  here  and  not  shoot  again  to-night.  I've 
an  idea  we'll  see  something  worth  while." 

It  was  Pepe's  idea,  but  Ken  instantly  saw 
its  possibilities.  There  were  no  tributaries  to 
the  river  or  springs  in  that  dry  jungle,  and, 
as  manifestly  the  whole  country  abounded 
in  game,  it  must  troop  down  to  the  river  in 
the  cool  of  the  evening  to  allay  the  hot  day's 
thirst.  The  boys  were  perfectly  situated  for 
watching  the  dark  bank  on  the  channel  side 
of  the  island  as  well  as  the  open  bars  on  the 


KEN    WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

other.  The  huge  cypresses  cast  shadows  that 
even  in  daylight  effectually  concealed  them. 
They  put  out  the  camp-fire  and,  taking  com- 
fortable seats  in  the  folds  of  the  great  gnarled 
roots,  began  to  watch  and  listen. 

The  vanguard  of  thirsty  deer  had  prepared 
Ken  for  something  remarkable,  and  he  was  in 
no  wise  disappointed.  The  trooping  of  deer 
down  to  the  water's  edge  and  the  flight  of 
wild  fowl  up-stream  increased  in  proportion 
to  the  gathering  shadows  of  -twilight.  The 
deer  must  have  got  a  scent,  for  they  raised 
their  long  ears  and  stood  still  as  statues, 
gazing  across  toward  the  upper  end  of  the 
island.  But  they  showed  no  fear.  It  was 
only  when  they  had  drunk  their  fill  and 
wheeled  about  to  go  up  the  narrow  trails 
over  the  bank  that  they  showed  uneasiness 
and  haste.  This  made  Ken  wonder  if  they 
were  fearful  of  being  ambushed  by  jaguars. 
Soon  the  dark  line  of  deer  along  the  shore 
shaded  into  the  darkness  of  night.  Then 
Ken  heard  soft  splashes  and  an  occasional 
patter  of  hard  hoofs.  The  whir  of  wings 
had  ceased. 

A  low  exclamation  from  Pepe  brought  at- 
tention to  interesting  developments  closer 
at  hand. 

"Javelin!"  he  whispered. 
154 


CATCHING   STRANGE    FISH 

On  the  channel  side  of  the  island  was  im- 
penetrable pitchy  blackness.  Ken  tried  to 
pierce  it  with  straining  eyes,  but  he  could 
not' even  make  out  the  shore-line  that  he  knew 
was  only  ten  yards  distant.  Still  he  could 
hear,  and  that  was  thrilling  enough.  Every- 
where on  this  side,  along  the  edge  of  the  water 
and  up  the  steep  bank,  were  faint  tickings  of 
twigs  and  soft  rustlings  of  leaves.  Then 
there  was  a  continuous  sound,  so  low  as  to 
be  almost  inaudible,  that  resembled  nothing 
Ken  could  think  of  so  much  as  a  long  line  of 
softly  dripping  water.  It  swelled  in  volume 
to  a  tiny  roll,  and  ended  in  a  sharp  clicking 
on  rocks  and  a  gentle  splashing  in  the  water. 
A  drove  of  javelin  had  come  down  to  drink. 
Occasionally  the  glint  of  green  eyes  made 
the  darkness  all  the  more  weird.  Suddenly  a 
long,  piercing  wail,  a  keen  cry  almost  human, 
quivered  into  the  silence. 

"Panther!"  Ken  whispered,  instantly,  to 
the  boys.  It  was  a  different  cry  from  that  of 
the  lion  of  the  canon,  but  there  was  a  strange 
wild  note  that  betrayed  the  species.  A 
stillness  fell,  dead  as  that  of  a  subterranean 
cavern.  Strain  his  ears  as  he  might,  Ken 
could  not  detect  the  slightest  sound.  It 
was  as  if  no  javelin  or  any  other  animals 
had  come  down  to  drink.  That  listening, 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

palpitating  moment  seemed  endless.  What 
mystery  of  wild  life  it  meant,  that  silence 
following  the  cry  of  the  panther!  Then  the 
jungle  sounds  recommenced — the  swishing  of 
water,  the  brushing  in  the  thicket,  stealthy 
padded  footsteps,  the  faint  snapping  of  twigs. 
Some  kind  of  a  cat  uttered  an  unearthly  squall. 
Close  upon  this  the  clattering  of  deer  up  the 
bank  on  the  other  side  rang  out  sharply. 
The  deer  were  running,  and  the  striking  of 
the  little  hoofs  ceased  in  short  order.  Ken 
listened  intently.  From  far  over  the  bank  came 
a  sound  not  unlike  a  cough — deep,  hoarse, 
inexpressibly  wild  and  menacing. 

"Tigre!"  cried  Pepe,  gripping  Ken  hard 
with  both  hands.  He  could  feel  him  trem- 
bling. It  showed  how  the  native  of  the 
jungle-belt  feared  the  jaguar. 

Again  the  cough  rasped  out,  nearer  and 
louder  this  time.  It  was  not  a  courage- 
provoking  sound,  and  seemed  on  second 
thought  more  of  a  growl  than  a  cough.  Ken 
felt  safe  on  the  island ;  nevertheless,  he  took 
up  his  rifle. 

"That's  a  tiger,"  whispered  George.  "I 
heard  one  once  from  the  porch  of  the  Alamitas 
hacienda." 

A  third  time  the  jaguar  told  of  his  arrival 
upon  the  night  scene.  Ken  was  excited,  and 

156 


CATCHING   STRANGE    FISH 


a  thrill  of  fear.  He  made  up  his  mind 
to  listen  with  clearer  ears,  but  the  cough  or 
growl  was  not  repeated. 

Then  a  silence  set  in,  so  unbroken  that  it 
seemed  haunted  by  the  echoes  of  those  wild 
jungle  cries.  Perhaps  Ken  had  the  haunting 
£choes  in  mind.  He  knew  what  had  sent 
the  deer  away  and  stilled  the  splashings  and 
keepings.  It  was  the  hoarse  voice  of  the  lord 
«5f  the  jungle. 

Pepe  and  the  boys,  too,  fell  under  the  spell 
of  the  hour.  They  did  not  break  the  charm 
by  talking.  Giant  fireflies  accentuated  the 
ebony  blackness  and  a  low  hum  of  insects 
riveted  the  attention  on  the  stillness.  Ken 
could  not  understand  why  he  was  more 
thoughtful  on  this  trip  than  he  had  ever  been 
before.  Somehow  he  felt  immeasurably  older. 
Probably  that  was  because  it  had  seemed 
necessary  for  him  to  act  like  a  man,  even  if  he 
was  only  a  boy. 

The  black  mantle  of  night  lifted  from  under 
the  cypresses,  leaving  a  gloom  that  slowly 
paled.  Through  the  dark  foliage,  low  down 
over  the  bank,  appeared  the  white  tropical 
moon.  Shimmering  gleams  chased  the  shad- 
ows across  the  ripples,  and  slowly  the  river 
brightened  to  a  silver  sheen. 

A  great  peace  fell  upon  the  jungle  world. 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

How  white,  how  wild,  how  wonderful!  It 
only  made  the  island  more  beautiful  and 
lonely.  The  thought  of  leaving  it  gave  Ken 
Ward  a  pang.  Almost  he  wished  he  were  a 
savage. 

And  he  lay  there  thinking  of  the  wild  places 
that  he  could  never  see,  where  the  sun  shone, 
the  wind  blew,  the  twilight  shadowed,  the 
rain  fell ;  where  the  colors  and  beauties  changed 
with  the  passing  hours;  where  a  myriad  of 
wild  creatures  preyed  upon  each  other  and 
night  never  darkened  but  upon  strife  and 
death. 


XIII 

A  TURKEY-HUNT 

UPON  awakening  in  the  early  morning 
Ken  found  his  state  one  of  huge  en- 
joyment. He  was  still  lazily  tired,  but  the 
dead  drag  and  ache  had  gone  from  his  bones. 
A  cool  breeze  wafted  the  mist  from  the  river, 
breaking  it  up  into  clouds,  between  which 
streamed  rosy  shafts  of  sunlight.  Wood- 
smoke  from  the  fire  Pepe  was  starting  blew 
fragrantly  over  him.  A  hundred  thousand 
birds  seemed  to  be  trying  to  burst  their 
throats.  The  air  was  full  of  music.  He  lay 
still,  listening  to  this  melodious  herald  of  the 
day  till  it  ceased. 

Then  a  flock  of  parrots  approached  and 
circled  over  the  island,  screeching  like  a  band 
of  flying  imps.  Presently  they  alighted  in 
the  cypresses,  bending  the  branches  to  a 
breaking-point  and  giving  the  trees  a  spotted 
appearance  of  green  and  red.  Pepe  waved 
his  hand  toward  another  flock  sweeping  over. 

"Parrakeets,"  he  said. 


KEN    WARD    IN   THE    JUNGLE 

These  birds  were  a  solid  green,  much  smaller 
than  the  red-heads,  with  longer  tails.  They 
appeared  wilder  than  the  red-heads,  and  flew 
higher,  circling  the  same  way  and  screeching, 
but  they  did  not  alight.  Other  flocks  sailed 
presently  from  all  directions.  The  last  one 
was  a  cloud  of  parrots,  a  shining  green  and 
yellow  mass  several  acres  in  extent.  They 
flew  still  higher  than  the  parrakeets. 

"Yellow-heads!"  shouted  George.  "They're 
the  big  fellows,  the  talkers.  If  there  ain't  a 
million  of  'em!" 

The  boys  ate  breakfast  in  a  din  that  made 
conversation  useless.  The  red-heads  swooped 
down  upon  the  island,  and  the  two  unfriendly 
species  flew  back  and  forth,  manifestly  trying 
to  drive  the  boys  off.  The  mist  had  blown 
away,  the  sun  was  shining  bright,  when  the 
myriad  of  parrots,  in  large  and  small  flocks, 
departed  to  other  jungle  haunts. 

Pepe  rowed  across  the  wide  shoal  to  the 
sand-bars.  There  in  the  soft  ooze,  among 
the  hundreds  of  deer-tracks,  Ken  found  a 
jaguar-track  larger  than  his  spread  hand. 
It  was  different  from  a  lion-track,  yet  he  could 
not  distinguish  just  what  the  difference  was. 
Pepe,  who  had  accompanied  the  boys  to 
carry  the  rifles  and  game,  pointed  to  the  track 
and  said,  vehemently: 

160 


A   TURKEY-HUNT 

"Tigre!"  He  pronounced  it  "tee-gray." 
And  he  added,  "Grande!" 

' '  Big  he  certainly  is, "  Ken  replied.  ' '  Boys, 
we'll  kill  this  jaguar.  We'll  bait  this  drinking- 
trail  with  a  deer  carcass  and  watch  to- 
night." 

Once  upon  the  bank,  Ken  was  surprised 
to  see  a  wide  stretch  of  comparatively  flat 
land.  It  was  covered  with  a  low  vegetation, 
with  here  and  there  palm-trees  on  the  little 
ridges  and  bamboo  clumps  down  in  the  swales. 
Beyond  the  flat  rose  the  dark  line  of  dense 
jungle.  It  was  not  clear  to  Ken  why  that  low 
piece  of  ground  was  not  overgrown  with  the 
matted  thickets  and  vines  and  big  trees 
characteristic  of  other  parts  of  the  jungle. 

They  struck  into  one  of  the  trails,  and  had 
not  gone  a  hundred  paces  when  they  espied 
a  herd  of  deer.  The  grass  and  low  bushes 
almost  covered  them.  George  handed  his 
shotgun  to  Pepe  and  took  his  rifle. 

"Shoot  low,"  said  Ken. 

George  pulled  the  trigger,  and  with  the  re- 
port a  deer  went  down,  but  it  was  not  the  one 
Ken  was  looking  at,  nor  the  one  at  which  he 
believed  George  had  aimed.  The  rest  of  the 
herd  bounded  away,  to  disappear  in  a  swale. 
Wading  through  bushes  and  grass,  they  found 
George's  quarry,  a  small  deer  weighing  per- 

161 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

haps  sixty  pounds.  Pepe  carried  it  over  to 
the  trail.  Ken  noted  that  he  was  exceedingly 
happy  to  carry  the  rifles.  They  went  on  at 
random,  somehow  feeling  that,  no  matter  in 
what  direction,  they  would  run  into  something 
to  shoot  at. 

The  first  bamboo  swale  was  alive  with 
chicalocki.  Up  to  this  time  Ken  had  not 
seen  this  beautiful  pheasant  fly  in  the  open, 
and  he  was  astonished  at  its  speed.  It 
would  burst  out  of  the  thick  bamboo,  whir  its 
wings  swiftly,  then  sail.  That  sail  was  a  most 
graceful  thing  to  see.  George  pulled  his 
i6-gage  twice,  and  missed  both  times.  He 
had  the  beginner's  fault — shooting  too  soon. 
Presently  Pepe  beat  a  big  cock  chicalocki 
out  of  the  bush.  He  made  such  a  fine  target, 
he  sailed  so  evenly,  that  Ken  simply  looked 
at  him  over  the  gun-sights  and  followed  him 
till  he  was  out  of  sight.  The  next  one  he 
dropped  like  a  plummet.  Shooting  chicalocki 
was  too  easy,  he  decided;  they  presented  so 
fair  a  mark  that  it  was  unfair  to  pull  on  them. 

George  was  an  impetuous  hunter.  Ken 
could  not  keep  near  him,  nor  coax  or  command 
him  to  stay  near.  He  would  wander  off  by 
himself.  That  was  one  mark  in  his  favor; 
at  least  he  had  no  fear.  Pepe  hung  close  to 
Ken  and  Hal,  with  his  dark  eyes  roving  every- 

162 


A   TURKEY-HUNT 

where.  Ken  climbed  out  on  one  side  of  the 
swale,  George  on  the  other.  Catching  his 
whistle,  Ken  turned  to  look  after  him.  He 
waved,  and,  pointing  ahead,  began  to  stoop 
and  slip  along  from  bush  to  bush.  Presently 
a  flock  of  Muscovy  ducks  rose  before  him, 
sailed  a  few  rods,  and  alighted.  Then  from 
right  under  his  feet  labored  up  great  gray 
birds.  Wild  geese!  Ken  recognized  them 
as  George's  gun  went  bang!  One  tumbled 
over,  the  others  wheeled  toward  the  river. 
Ken  started  down  into  the  swale  to  cross  to 
where  George  was,  when  Pepe  touched  his 
arm. 

"Turkeys!"  he  whispered. 

That  changed  Ken's  mind.  Pepe  pointed 
into  the  low  bushes  ahead  and  slowly  led 
Ken  forward.  He  heard  a  peculiar  low  thump- 
ing. Trails  led  everywhere,  and  here  and 
there  were  open  patches  covered  with  a  scant 
growth  of  grass.  Across  one  of  these  flashed 
a  bronze  streak,  then  another  and  another. 

"Shoot!    Shoot!"  said  Pepe,  tensely. 

Those  bronze  streaks  were  running  turkeys ! 
The  thumpingr  were  made  by  their  rapidly 
moving  feet! 

"Don't  they  flush— fly?"  Ken  queried  of 
Pepe. 

"  No — no — shoot !"  exclaimed  he,  as  another 
163 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

streak  of  brown  crossed  an  open  spot.  Ken 
hurriedly  unbreached  his  gun  and  changed 
the  light  shells  for  others  loaded  with  heavy 
shot.  He  reached  the  edge  of  a  bare  spot 
across  which  a  turkey  ran  with  incredible 
swiftness.  He  did  not  get  the  gun  in  line 
with  it  at  all.  Then  two  more  broke  out 
of  the  bushes.  Run!  They  were  as  swift  as 
flying  quail.  Ken  took  two  snap-shots,  and 
missed  both  times.  If  any  one  had  told  him 
that  he  would  miss  a  running  turkey  at  fifty 
feet,  he  would  have  been  insulted.  But  he 
did  not  loosen  a  feather.  Loading  again,  he 
yelled  for  George. 

' '  Hey,  George — turkeys ! ' ' 

He  whooped,  and  started  across  on  the 
run. 

"Gee!"  said  Hal.  "Ken,  I  couldn't  do 
any  worse  shooting  than  you.  Let  me  take 
a  few  pegs." 

Ken  handed  over  the  heavy  gun  and  fell 
back  a  little,  giving  Hal  the  lead.  They 
walked  on,  peering  closely  into  the  bushes. 
Suddenly  a  beautiful  big  gobbler  ran  out  of  a 
thicket,  and  then  stopped  to  stretch  out  his 
long  neck  and  look. 

"Shoot— hurry!"  whispered  Ken.  "What 
a  chance!" 

"That's  a  tame  turkey,"  said  Hal. 
164 


A   TURKEY-HUNT 


« i 


'Tame!  Why,  you  tenderfoot!  He's  as 
wild  as  wild.  Can't  you  see  that?" 

Ken's  excitement  and  Pepe's  intense  eager- 
ness all  at  once  seemed  communicated  to  Hal. 
He  hauled  up  the  gun,  fingered  the  triggers 
awkwardly,  then  shot  both  barrels.  He  tore 
a  tremendous  hole  in  the  brush  some  few  feet 
to  one  side  of  the  turkey.  Then  the  great 
bird  ran  swiftly  out  of  sight. 

"Didn't  want  to  kill  him  sitting,  anyhow," 
said  Hal,  handing  the  gun  back  to  Ken. 

''We  want  to  eat  some  wild  turkey,  don't 
we?  Well,  we'd  better  take  any  chance. 
These  birds  are  game,  Hal,  and  don't  you 
forget  that!" 

"What's  all  the  shooting?"  panted  George, 
as  he  joined  the  march. 

Just  then  there  was  a  roar  in  the  bushes, 
and  a  brown  blur  rose  and  whizzed  ahead  like 
a  huge  bullet.  That  turkey  had  flushed. 
Ken  watched  him  fly  till  he  went  down  out 
of  sight  into  a  distant  swale. 

"Pretty  nifty  flier,  eh?"  said  George. 
"He  was  too  quick  for  me." 

"Great!"  replied  Ken. 

There  was  another  roar,  and  a  huge  bronze 
cannon-ball  sped  straight  ahead.  Ken  shot 
both  barrels,  then  George  shot  one,  all  clean 
misses.  Ken  watched  this  turkey  fly,  and  saw 

165 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

him  clearer.  He  had  to  admit  that  the  wild 
turkey  of  the  Tamaulipas  jungle  had  a 
swifter  and  more  beautiful  flight  than  his 
favorite  bird,  the  ruffled  grouse. 

' '  Walk  faster, ' '  said  George.  ' '  They'll  flush 
better.  I  don't  see  how  I'm  to  hit  one.  This 
goose  I'm  carrying  weighs  about  a  ton." 

The  hunters  hurried  along,  crashing  through 
the  bushes.  They  saw  turkey  after  turkey. 
Bang!  went  George's  gun. 

Then  a  beautiful  sight  made  Ken  cry  out 
and  forget  to  shoot.  Six  turkeys  darted  across 
an  open  patch — how  swiftly  they  ran! — then 
rose  in  a  bunch.  The  roar  they  made,  the 
wonderfully  rapid  action  of  their  powerful 
wings,  and  then  the  size  of  them,  their  wild- 
ness  and  noble  gameness  made  them  the  royal 
game  for  Ken. 

At  the  next  threshing  in  the  bushes  his  gun 
was  leveled ;  he  covered  the  whistling  bronze 
thing  that  shot  up.  The  turkey  went  down 
with  a  crash.  Pepe  yelled,  and  as  he  ran 
forward  the  air  all  about  him  was  full  of  fine 
bronze  feathers.  Ken  hurried  forward  to 
see  his  bird.  Its  strength  and  symmetry, 
and  especially  the  beautiful  shades  of  bronze, 
captivated  his  eye. 

"Come  on,  boys — this  is  the  greatest  game 
I  ever  hunted,"  he  called. 

1 66 


A   TURKEY-HUNT 

Again  Pepe  yelled,  and  this  time  he  pointed. 
From  where  Ken  stood  he  could  not  see  any- 
thing except  low,  green  bushes.  In  great 
excitement  George  threw  up  his  gun  and  shot. 
Ken  heard  a  squealing. 

1 '  Javelin  I  Javelin !"  yelled  Pepe,  in  piercing 
alarm. 

George  jerked  a  rifle  from  him  and  began  to 
shoot.  Hal  pumped  his  .22  into  the  bushes. 
The  trampling  of  hard  little  hoofs  and  a 
cloud  of  dust  warned  Ken  where  the  javelin 
were.  Suddenly  Pepe  broke  and  fled  for  the 
river. 

"Hyar,  Pepe,  fetch  back  my  rifle,"  shouted 
Ken,  angrily. 

Pepe  ran  all  the  faster. 

George  turned  and  dashed  away  yelling: 
"Wild  pigs!  Wild  pigs!" 

"Look  out,  Ken!  Run!  Run!"  added  Hal; 
and  he  likewise  took  to  his  heels. 

It  looked  as  if  there  was  nothing  else  for  Ken 
to  do  but  to  make  tracks  from  that  vicinity. 
Never  before  had  he  run  from  a  danger  which 
he  had  not  seen ;  but  the  flight  of  the  boys  was 
irresistibly  contagious,  and  this,  coupled  with 
the  many  stories  he  had  heard  of  the  javelin, 
made  Ken  execute  a  sprint  that  would  have 
been  a  record  but  for  the  hampering  weight 
of  gun  and  turkey.  He  vowed  he  would  hold 

12  167 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

on  to  both,  pigs  or  no  pigs;  nevertheless  he 
listened  as  he  ran  and  nervously  looked  back 
often.  It  may  have  been  excited  imagination 
that  the  dust-cloud  appeared  to  be  traveling 
in  his  wake.  Fortunately,  the  distance  to  the 
river  did  not  exceed  a  short  quarter  of  a  mile. 
Hot,  winded,  and  thoroughly  disgusted  with 
himself,  Ken  halted  on  the  bank.  Pepe  was 
already  in  the  boat,  and  George  was  scram- 
bling aboard. 

"A  fine — chase — you've  given — me,"  Ken 
panted.  "There's  nothing — after  us." 

"Don't  you  fool  yourself,"  returned  George, 
quickly.  "I  saw  those  pigs,  and,  like  the  ass 
I  am,  I  blazed  away  at  one  with  my  shotgun." 

"Did  he  run  at  you?  That's  what  I  want 
to  know?"  demanded  Ken. 

George  said  he  was  not  certain  about  that, 
but  declared  there  always  was  danger  if  a 
wounded  javelin  squealed.  Pepe  had  little 
to  say;  he  refused  to  go  back  after  the  deer 
left  in  the  trail.  So  they  rowed  across  the 
shoal,  and  on  the  way  passed  within  a  rod  of  a 
big  crocodile. 

' '  Look  at  that  fellow, ' '  cried  George.  ' '  Wish 
I  had  my  rifle  loaded.  He's  fifteen  feet  long." 

"Oh  no,  George,  he's  not  more  than  ten 
feet,"  said  Ken. 

"You  don't  see  his  tail.  He's  a  whopper. 
168 


A   TURKEY-HUNT 

Pepe  told  me  there  was  one  in  this  pool. 
We'll  get  him,  all  right." 

They  reached  camp  tired  out,  and  all  a 
little  ruffled  in  temper,  which  certainly  was 
not  eased  by  the  discovery  that  they  were 
covered  with  ticks.  Following  the  cue  of  his 
companions,  Ken  hurriedly  stripped  off  his 
clothes  and  hung  them  where  they  could 
singe  over  the  camp-fire.  There  were  broad 
red  bands  of  pinilius  round  both  ankles,  and 
reddish  patches  on  the  skin  of  his  arms.  Here 
and  there  were  black  spots  about  the  size 
of  his  little  finger-nail,  and  these  were  garrapa- 
toes.  He  picked  these  off  one  by  one,  rather 
surprised  to  find  them  come  off  so  easily. 
Suddenly  he  jumped  straight  up  with  a  pain 
as  fierce  as  if  it  had  been  a  puncture  from  a 
red-hot  wire. 

Pepe  grinned ;  and  George  cried : 

"Aha!  that  was  a  garrapato  bite,  that  was! 
You  just  wait!" 

George  had  a  hundred  or  more  of  the  big 
black  ticks  upon  him,  and  he  was  remorse- 
lessly popping  them  with  his  cigarette.  Some 
of  them  were  biting  him,  too,  judging  from  the 
way  he  flinched.  Pepe  had  attracted  to  him- 
self a  million  or  more  of  the  pinilius,  but  very 
few  of  the  larger  pests.  He  generously  came 
to  Ken's  assistance.  Ken  was  trying  to  pull 

169 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

off  the  garrapato  that  had  bitten  a  hole  in 
him.  Pepe  said  it  had  embedded  its  head, 
and  if  pulled  would  come  apart,  leaving  the 
head  buried  in  the  flesh,  which  would  cause 
inflammation.  Pepe  held  the  glowing  end 
of  his  cigarette  close  over  the  tick,  and  it 
began  to  squirm  and  pull  out  its  head.  When 
it  was  free  of  the  flesh  Pepe  suddenly  touched 
it  with  the  cigarette,  and  it  exploded  with  a 
pop.  A  difficult  question  was:  Which  hurt 
Ken  the  most,  the  burn  from  the  cigarette  or 
the  bite  of  the  tick?  Pepe  scraped  off  as  many 
pinilius  as  would  come,  and  then  rubbed 
Ken  with  cany  a,  the  native  alcohol.  If  this 
was  not  some  kind  of  vitriol,  Ken  missed  his 
guess.  It  smarted  so  keenly  he  thought  his 
skin  was  peeling  off.  Presently,  however, 
the  smarting  subsided,  and  so  did  the  ticks. 

Hal,  who  by  far  was  the  most  sensitive  one 
in  regard  to  the  crawling  and  biting  of  the 
jungle  pests,  had  been  remarkably  fortunate 
in  escaping  them.  So  he  made  good  use  of 
his  opportunity  to  poke  fun  at  the  others, 
particularly  Ken. 

George  snapped  out:  "Just  wait,  Hollering 
Hal!" 

"Don't  you  call  me  that!"  said  Hal,  bel- 
ligerently. 

Ken  eyed  his  brother  in  silence,  but  with 
170 


A   TURKEY-HUNT 

a  dark,  meaning  glance.  It  had  occurred  to 
Ken  that  here  in  this  jungle  was  the  only  place 
in  the  world  where  he  could  hope  to  pay  off 
old  scores  on  Hal.  And  plots  began  to  form 
in  his  mind. 

They  lounged  about  camp,  resting  in  the 
shade  during  the  hot  midday  hours.  For 
supper  they  had  a  superfluity  of  meat,  the 
waste  of  which  Ken  deplored,  and  he  as- 
suaged his  conscience  by  deciding  to  have 
a  taste  of  each  kind.  The  wild  turkey  he 
found  the  most  toothsome,  delicious  meat  it 
had  ever  been  his  pleasure  to  eat.  What 
struck  him  at  once  was  the  flavor,  and  he 
could  not  understand  it  until  Pepe  explained 
that  the  jungle  turkey  lived  upon  a  red  pepper. 
So  the  Tamaulipas  wild  turkey  turned  out 
to  be  doubly  the  finest  game  he  had  ever 
shot. 

All  afternoon  the  big  crocodile  sunned  him- 
self on  the  surface  of  the  shoal. 

Ken  wanted  a  crocodile-skin,  and  this  was 
a  chance  to  get  one ;  but  he  thought  it  as  well 
to  wait,  and  kept  the  boys  from  wasting  am- 
munition. 

Before  sundown  Pepe  went  across  the  river 
and  fetched  the  deer  carcass  down  to  the  sand- 
bar, where  the  jaguar-trail  led  to  the  water. 

At  twilight  Ken  stationed  the  boys  at  the 
171 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

lower  end  of  the  island,  ambushed  behind 
stones.  He  placed  George  and  Pepe  some 
rods  below  his  own  position.  They  had 
George's  .32  rifle,  and  the  i6-gage  loaded  with 
a  solid  ball.  Ken  put  Hal,  with  the  double- 
barreled  shotgun,  also  loaded  with  ball,  some 
little  distance  above.  And  Ken,  armed  with 
his  automatic,  hid  just  opposite  the  deer- 
trails. 

"Be  careful  where  you  shoot,"  Ken  warned 
repeatedly.  "  Be  cool — think  quick — and  aim." 

Ken  settled  down  for  a  long  wait,  some 
fifty  yards  from  the  deer  carcass.  A  wonder- 
ful procession  of  wild  fowl  winged  swift 
flight  over  his  head.  They  flew  very  low. 
It  was  strange  to  note  the  difference  in  the 
sound  of  their  flying.  The  cranes  and  herons 
softly  swished  the  air,  the  teal  and  canvas^ 
backs  whirred  by,  and  the  great  Muscovies 
whizzed  like  bullets. 

When  the  first  deer  came  down  to  drink  it 
was  almost  dark,  and  when  they  left  the  moon 
was  up,  though  obscured  by  clouds.  Faint 
sounds  rose  from  the  other  side  of  the  island. 
Ken  listened  until  his  ears  ached,  but  he  could 
hear  nothing.  Heavier  clouds  drifted  over 
the  moon.  The  deer  carcass  became  indis- 
tinct, and  then  faded  entirely,  and  the  bar 
itself  grew  vague.  He  was  about  to  give  up 

172 


A   TURKEY-HUNT 

watching  for  that  night  when  he  heard  a  faint 
rustling  below.  Following  it  came  a  grating 
or  crunching  of  gravel. 

Bright  flares  split  the  darkness — crack! 
crack!  rang  out  George's  rifle,  then  the  heavy 
boom!  boom!  of  the  shotgun. 

"There  he  is!"  yelled  George.  "He's  down 
— we  got  him — there's  two!  Look  out!" 

Boom!  Boom!  roared  the  heavy  shotgun 
from  Hal's  covert. 

" George  missed  him !  I  got  him!"  yelled 
Hal.  "No,  there  he  goes— Ken !  Ken !" 

Ken  caught  the  flash  of  a  long  gray  body 
in  the  hazy  gloom  of  the  bar  and  took  a 
quick  shot  at  it.  The  steel- jacketed  bullet 
scattered  the  gravel  and  then  hummed  over 
the  bank.  The  gray  body  moved  fast  up  the 
bank.  Ken  could  just  see  it.  He  turned 
loose  the  little  automatic  and  made  the 
welkin  ring. 


XIV 

A  FIGHT  WITH   A  JAGUAR 

WHEN  the  echoes  of  the  shots  died  away 
the  stillness  seemed  all  the  deeper.  No 
rustle  in  the  brush  or  scuffle  on  the  sand 
gave  evidence  of  a  wounded  or  dying  jaguar. 
George  and  Hal  and  Pepe  declared  there 
were  two  tigers,  and  that  they  had  hit  one. 
Ken  walked  out  upon  the  stones  till  he  could 
see  the  opposite  bar,  but  was  not  rewarded 
by  a  sight  of  dead  game.  Thereupon  they 
returned  to  camp,  somewhat  discouraged  at 
their  ill  luck,  but  planning  another  night- 
watch. 

In  the  morning  George  complained  that  he 
did  not  feel  well.  Ken  told  him  he  had  been 
eating  too  much  fresh  meat,  and  that  he  had 
better  be  careful.  Then  Ken  set  off  alone, 
crossed  the  river,  and  found  that  the  deer 
carcass  was  gone.  In  the  sand  near  where 
it  had  lain  were  plenty  of  cat-tracks,  but  none 
of  the  big  jaguar.  Upon  closer  scrutiny  he 
found  the  cat-tracks  to  be  those  of  a  panther. 

174 


A    FIGHT   WITH   A   JAGUAR 

He  had  half  dragged,  half  carried  the  carcass 
up  one  of  the  steep  trails,  but  from  that  point 
there  was  no  further  trace. 

Ken  struck  out  across  the  flat,  intending 
to  go  as  far  as  the  jungle.  Turtle-doves 
fluttered  before  him  in  numberless  flocks. 
Far  to  one  side  he  saw  Muscovy  ducks  rising, 
sailing  a  few  rods,  then  alighting.  This 
occurred  several  times  before  he  understood 
what  it  meant.  There  was  probably  a  large 
flock  feeding  on  the  flat,  and  the  ones  in  the 
rear  were  continually  flying  to  get  ahead  of 
those  to  the  fore. 

Several  turkeys  ran  through  the  bushes 
before  Ken,  but  as  he  was  carrying  a  rifle 
he  paid  little  heed  to  them.  He  kept  a  keen 
lookout  for  javelin.  Two  or  three  times  he 
was  tempted  to  turn  off  the  trail  into  little 
bamboo  hollows;  this,  however,  owing  to  a 
repugnance  to  ticks,  he  did  not  do.  Finally, 
as  he  neared  the  high  moss-decked  wall  of 
the  jungle,  he  came  upon  a  runway  leading 
through  the  bottom  of  a  deep  swale,  and  here 
he  found  tiger-tracks. 

Farther  down  the  swale,  under  a  great 
cluster  of  bamboo,  he  saw  the  scattered  bones 
of  several  deer.  Ken  was  sure  that  in  this 
spot  the  lord  of  the  jungle  had  feasted  more 
than  once.  It  was  an  open  hollow,  with  the 

175 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

ground  bare  under  the  bamboos.  The  runway 
led  on  into  dense,  leafy  jungle.  Ken  planned 
to  bait  that  lair  with  a  deer  carcass  and  watch 
it  during  the  late  afternoon. 

First,  it  was  necessary  to  get  the  deer. 
This  might  prove  bothersome,  for  Ken's  hands 
and  wrists  were  already  sprinkled  with  pini- 
lius,  and  he  certainly  did  not  want  to  stay  very 
long  in  the  brush.  Ken  imagined  he  felt  an 
itching  all  the  time,  and  writhed  inside  his 
clothes. 

"Say,  blame  you!  bite!"  he  exclaimed,  re- 
signedly, and  stepped  into  the  low  bushes. 
He  went  up  and  out  of  the  swale.  Scarcely 
had  he  reached  a  level  when  he  saw  a  troop 
of  deer  within  easy  range.  Before  they 
winded  danger  Ken  shot,  and  the  one  he  had 
singled  out  took  a  few  bounds,  then  fell  over 
sideways.  The  others  ran  off  into  the  brush. 
Ken  remembered  that  the  old  hunter  on 
Penetier  had  told  him  how  seldom  a  deer 
dropped  at  once.  When  he  saw  the  work  of 
the  soft-nose  .351  bullet,  he  no  longer  won- 
dered at  this  deer  falling  almost  in  his 
tracks. 

"  If  I  ever  hit  a  jaguar  like  that  it  will  be  all 
day  with  him,"  was  Ken's  comment. 

There  were  two  things  about  hunting  the 
jaguar  that  Ken  had  been  bidden  to  keep  in 

176 


A    FIGHT   WITH   A   JAGUAR 

mind — fierce  aggressiveness  and  remarkable 
tenacity  of  life. 

Ken  dragged  the  deer  down  into  the  bam- 
boo swale  and  skinned  out  a  haunch.  Next 
to  wild -turkey  meat,  he  liked  venison  best. 
He  was  glad  to  have  that  as  an  excuse,  for 
killing  these  tame  tropical  deer  seemed  like 
murder  to  Ken.  He  left  the  carcass  in  a 
favorable  place  and  then  hurried  back  to  camp. 

To  Ken's  relief,  he  managed  to  escape 
bringing  any  garrapatoes  with  him,  but  it 
took  a  half -hour  to  rid  himself  of  the  collec- 
tion of  pinilius. 

"George,  ask  Pepe  what's  the  difference 
between  a  garrapato  and  a  pinilius,"  said 
Ken. 

"The  big  tick  is  the  little  one's  mother," 
replied  Pepe. 

"Gee!  you  fellows  fuss  a  lot  about  ticks," 
said  Hal,  looking  up  from  his  task.  He  was 
building  more  pens  to  accommodate  the 
turtles,  snakes,  snails,  mice,  and  young  birds 
that  he  had  captured  during  the  morning. 

Pepe  said  there  were  few  ticks  there  in  the 
uplands  compared  to  the  number  down  along 
the  Panuco  River.  In  the  lowlands  where 
the  cattle  roamed  there  were  millions  in  every 
square  rod.  The  under  side  of  every  leaf  and 
blade  of  grass  was  red  with  ticks.  The  size 

177 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

of  these  pests  depended  on  whether  or  not  they 
got  a  chance  to  stick  to  a  steer  or  any  beast. 
They  appeared  to  live  indefinitely,  but  if  they 
could  not  suck  blood  they  could  not  grow. 
The  pinilius  grew  into  a  garrapato,  and  a 
garrapato  bred  a  hundred  thousand  pinilius 
in  her  body.  Two  singular  things  concern- 
ing these  ticks  were  that  they  always  crawled 
upward,  and  they  vanished  from  the  earth 
during  the  wet  season. 

Ken  soaked  his  Duxbax  hunting-suit  in 
kerosene  in  the  hope  that  this  method  would 
enable  him  to  spend  a  reasonable  time  hunt- 
ing. Then,  while  the  other  boys  fished  and 
played  around,  he  waited  for  the  long,  hot 
hours  to  pass.  It  was  cool  in  the  shade,  but 
the  sunlight  resembled  the  heat  of  fire.  At 
last  five  o'clock  came,  and  Ken  put  on  the 
damp  suit.  Soaked  with  the  oil,  it  was 
heavier  and  hotter  than  sealskin,  and  before 
he  got  across  the  river  he  was  nearly  roasted. 
The  evening  wind  sprang  up,  and  the  gusts 
were  like  blasts  from  a  furnace.  Ken's  body 
was  bathed  in  perspiration;  it  ran  down  his 
wrists,  over  his  hands,  and  wet  the  gun. 
This  cure  for  ticks — if  it  were  one — was 
worse  than  their  bites.  When  he  reached  the 
shade  of  the  bamboo  swale  it  was  none  too 
soon  for  him.  He  threw  off  the  coat,  noticing 

178 


A    FIGHT   WITH   A   JAGUAR 

there  were  more  ticks  upon  it  than  at  any 
time  before.  The  bottom  of  his  trousers, 
too,  had  gathered  an  exceeding  quantity.  He 
brushed  them  off,  muttering  the  while  that 
he  believed  they  liked  kerosene,  and  looked 
as  if  they  were  drinking  it.  Ken  found  it 
easy,  however,  to  brush  them  off  the  wet 
Duxbax,  and  soon  composed  himself  to  rest 
and  watch. 

The  position  chosen  afforded  Ken  a  clear 
view  of  the  bare  space  under  the  bamboos 
and  of  the  hollow  where  the  runway  disap- 
peared in  the  jungle.  The  deer  carcass, 
which  lay  as  he  had  left  it,  was  about  a  hun- 
dred feet  from  him.  This  seemed  rather 
close,  but  he  had  to  accept  it,  for  if  he  had 
moved  farther  away  he  could  not  have  com- 
manded both  points. 

Ken  sat  with  his  back  against  a  clump  of 
bamboos,  the  little  rifle  across  his  knees  and 
an  extra  clip  of  cartridges  on  the  ground 
at  his  left.  After  taking  that  position  he 
determined  not  to  move  a  yard  when  the  tiger 
came,  and  to  kill  him. 

Ken  went  over  in  mind  the  lessons  he  had 
learned  hunting  bear  in  Penetier  Forest  with 
old  Hiram  Bent  and  lassoing  lions  on  the 
wild  north-rim  of  the  Grand  Canon.  Ken 
knew  that  the  thing  for  a  hunter  to  do,  when 

179 


KEN  WARD    IN    THE   JUNGLE 

his  quarry  was  dangerous,  was  to  make  up 
his  mind  beforehand.  Ken  had  twelve  power- 
ful shells  that  he  could  shoot  in  the  half  of 
twelve  seconds.  He  would  have  been  willing 
to  face  two  jaguars. 

The  sun  set  and  the  wind  died  down. 
What  a  relief  was  the  cooling  shade!  The 
little  breeze  that  was  left  fortunately  blew  at 
right  angles  to  the  swale,  so  that  there  did 
not  seem  much  danger  of  the  tiger  winding 
Ken  down  the  jungle  runway. 

For  long  moments  he  was  tense  and  alert. 
He  listened  till  he  thought  he  had  almost 
lost  the  sense  of  hearing.  The  jungle  leaves 
were  whispering;  the  insects  were  humming. 
He  had  expected  to  hear  myriad  birds  and 
see  processions  of  deer,  and  perhaps  a  drove 
of  javelin.  But  if  any  living  creatures  ven- 
tured near  him  it  was  without  his  knowledge. 
The  hour  between  sunset  and  twilight  passed 
— a  long  wait;  still  he  did  not  lose  the  feeling 
that  something  would  happen.  Ken's  facul- 
ties of  alertness  tired,  however,  and  needed 
distraction.  So  he  took  stock  of  the  big 
clump  of  bamboos  under  which  lay  the  deer 
carcass. 

It  was  a  remarkable  growth,  that  gracefully 
drooping  cluster  of  slender  bamboo  poles.  He 
remembered  how,  as  a  youngster,  not  many 

1 80 


A   FIGHT   WITH   A   JAGUAR 

years  back,  he  had  wondered  where  the 
fishing-poles  came  from.  Here  Ken  counted 
one  hundred  and  sixty-nine  in  a  clump  no 
larger  than  a  barrel.  They  were  yellow  in 
color  with  black  bands,  and  they  rose  straight 
for  a  few  yards,  then  began  to  lean  out,  to 
bend  slightly,  at  last  to  droop  with  their 
abundance  of  spiked  leaves.  Ken  was  get- 
ting down  to  a  real,  interested  study  of  this 
species  of  jungle  growth  when  a  noise  startled 
him. 

He  straightened  out  of  his  lounging  position 
and  looked  around.  The  sound  puzzled  him. 
He  could  not  place  its  direction  or  name  what 
it  was.  The  jungle  seemed  strangely  quiet. 
He  listened.  After  a  moment  of  waiting  he 
again  heard  the  sound.  Instantly  Ken  was 
as  tense  and  vibrating  as  a  violin  string.  The 
thing  he  had  heard  was  from  the  lungs  of 
some  jungle  beast.  He  was  almost  ready  to 
pronounce  it  a  cough.  Warily  he  glanced 
around,  craning  his  neck.  Then  a  deep, 
hoarse  growl  made  him  whirl. 

There  stood  a  jaguar  with  head  up  and  paw 
on  the  deer  carcass.  Ken  imagined  he  felt 
perfectly  cool,  but  he  knew  he  was  astounded. 
And  even  as  he  cautiously  edged  the  rifle 
over  his  knee  he  took  in  the  beautiful  points 
of  the  jaguar.  He  was  yellow,  almost  white, 

181 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

with  black  spots.  He  was  short  and  stocky, 
with  powerful  stumpy  bow-legs.  But  his 
head  most  amazed  Ken.  It  was  enormous. 
And  the  expression  of  his  face  was  so  sin- 
gularly savage  and  wild  that  Ken  seemed  to 
realize  instantly  the  difference  between  a 
mountain-lion  and  this  fierce  tropical  brute. 

The  jaguar  opened  his  jaws  threateningly. 
He  had  an  enormous  stretch  of  jaw.  His  long, 
yellow  fangs  gleamed.  He  growled  again. 

Not  hurriedly,  nor  yet  slowly,  Ken  fired. 

He  heard  the  bullet  strike  him  as  plainly 
as  if  he  had  hit  him  with  a  board.  He  saw 
dust  fly  from  his  hide.  Ken  expected  to  see 
the  jaguar  roll  over.  Instead  of  that  he  leaped 
straight  up  with  a  terrible  roar.  Something 
within  Ken  shook.  He  felt  cold  and  sick. 

When  the  jaguar  came  down,  sprawled  on 
all  fours,  Ken  pulled  the  automatic  again, 
and  he  saw  the  fur  fly.  Then  the  jaguar 
leaped  forward  with  a  strange,  hoarse  cry. 
Ken  shot  again,  and  knocked  the  beast  flat. 
He  tumbled  and  wrestled  about,  scattering  the 
dust  and  brush.  Three  times  more  Ken  fired, 
too  hastily,  and  inflicted  only  slight  wounds. 

In  reloading  Ken  tried  to  be  deliberate  in 
snapping  in  the  second  clip  and  pushing  down 
the  rod  that  threw  the  shell  into  the  barrel. 
But  his  hands  shook.  His  fingers  were  all 

182 


A    FIGHT   WITH   A   JAGUAR 

thumbs,  and  he  fumbled  at  the  breech  of  the 
rifle. 

In  that  interval,  if  the  jaguar  could  have 
kept  his  sense  of  direction,  he  would  have 
reached  Ken.  But  the  beast  zigzagged;  he 
had  lost  his  equilibrium ;  he  was  hard  hit. 

Then  he  leaped  magnificently.  He  landed 
within  twenty -five  feet  of  Ken,  and  when 
he  plunged  down  he  rolled  clear  over.  Ken 
shot  him  through  and  through.  Yet  he  got 
up,  wheezing  blood,  uttering  a  hoarse  bellow, 
and  made  again  at  Ken. 

Ken  had  been  cold,  sick.  Now  panic  al- 
most overpowered  him.  The  rifle  wabbled. 
The  bamboo  glade  blurred  in  his  sight.  A 
terrible  dizziness  and  numbness  almost  para- 
lyzed him.  He  was  weakening,  sinking,  when 
thought  of  life  at  stake  lent  him  a  momentary 
grim  and  desperate  spirit. 

Once  while  the  jaguar  was  in  the  air  Ken 
pulled,  twice  while  he  was  down.  Then  the 
jaguar  stood  up  pawing  the  air  with  great, 
spread  claws,  coughing,  bleeding,  roaring. 
He  was  horrible. 

Ken  shot  him  straight  between  the  wide- 
spread paws. 

With  twisted  body,  staggering,  and  blowing 
bloody  froth  all  over  Ken,  the  big  tiger  blindly 
lunged  forward  and  crashed  to  earth. 

13  183 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

Then  began  a  furious  wrestling.  Ken  imag- 
ined it  was  the  death -throes  of  the  jaguar. 
Ken  could  not  see  him  down  among  the  leaves 
and  vines;  nevertheless,  he  shot  into  the 
commotion.  The  struggles  ceased.  Then  a 
movement  of  the  weeds  showed  Ken  that  the 
jaguar  was  creeping  toward  the  jungle. 

Ken  fell  rather  than  sat  down.  He  found 
he  was  wringing  wet  with  cold  sweat.  He  was 
panting  hard. 

"Say,  but — that — was — awful!"  he  gasped. 
* '  What — was — wrong — with  me  ? ' ' 

He  began  to  reload  the  clips.  They  were 
difficult  to  load  for  even  a  calm  person,  and 
now,  in  the  reaction,  Ken  was  the  farthest 
removed  from  calm.  The  jaguar  crept  stead- 
ily away,  as  Ken  could  tell  by  the  swaying 
weeds  and  shaking  vines. 

"What — a  hard-lived  beast !"  muttered  Ken. 
"I — must  have  shot — him  all  to  pieces.  Yet 
he's  getting  away  from  me." 

At  last  Ken's  trembling  fingers  pushed 
some  shells  in  the  two  clips,  and  once  more 
he  reloaded  the  rifle.  Then  he  stood  up, 
drew  a  deep,  full  breath,  and  made  a  strong 
effort  at  composure. 

"I've  shot  at  bear — and  deer — and  lions 
out  West , ' '  said  Ken.  "But  this  was  different. 
I'll  never  get  over  it." 

184 


A    FIGHT   WITH   A   JAGUAR 

How  close  that  jaguar  came  to  reaching 
Ken  was  proved  by  the  blood  coughed  into 
his  face.  He  recalled  that  he  had  felt  the 
wind  of  one  great  sweeping  paw. 

Ken  regained  his  courage  and  determina- 
tion. He  meant  to  have  that  beautiful 
spotted  skin  for  his  den.  So  he  hurried  along 
the  runway  and  entered  the  jungle.  Beyond 
the  edge,  where  the  bushes  made  a  dense 
thicket,  it  was  dry  forest,  with  little  green 
low  down.  The  hollow  gave  place  to  a  dry 
wash.  He  could  not  see  the  jaguar,  but  he 
could  hear  him  dragging  himself  through  the 
brush,  cracking  sticks,  shaking  saplings. 

Presently  Ken  ran  across  a  bloody  trail 
and  followed  it.  Every  little  while  he  would 
stop  to  listen.  When  the  wounded  jaguar 
was  still,  he  waited  until  he  started  to  move 
again.  It  was  hard  going.  The  brush  was 
thick,  and  had  to  be  broken  and  crawled 
under  or  through.  As  Ken  had  left  his  coat 
behind,  his  shirt  was  soon  torn  to  rags.  He 
peered  ahead  with  sharp  eyes,  expecting  every 
minute  to  come  in  sight  of  the  poor,  crippled 
beast.  He  wanted  to  put  him  out  of  agony. 
So  he  kept  on  doggedly  for  what  must  have 
been  a  long  time. 

The  first  premonition  he  had  of  careless- 
ness was  to  note  that  the  shadows  were 


KEN    WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

gathering  in  the  jungle.  It  would  soon  be 
night.  He  must  turn  back  while  there  was 
light  enough  to  follow  his  back  track  out 
to  the  open.  The  second  came  in  shape  of 
a  hot  pain  in  his  arm,  as  keen  as  if  he  had 
jagged  it  with  a  thorn.  Holding  it  out,  he 
discovered  to  his  dismay  that  it  was  spotted 
with  garrapatoes. 


XV 


AT  once  Ken  turned  back,  and  if  he  thought 
**  again  of  the  jaguar  it  was  that  he  could 
come  after  him  the  next  day  or  send  Pepe. 
Another  vicious  bite,  this  time  on  his  leg, 
confirmed  his  suspicions  that  many  of  the 
ticks  had  been  on  him  long  enough  to  get 
their  heads  in.  Then  he  was  bitten  in  several 
places. 

Those  bites  were  as  hot  as  the  touch  of  a 
live  coal,  yet  they  made  Ken  break  out  in 
dripping  cold  sweat.  It  was  imperative  that 
he  get  back  to  camp  without  losing  a  moment 
which  could  be  saved.  From  a  rapid  walk 
he  fell  into  a  trot.  He  got  off  his  back  trail 
and  had  to  hunt  for  it.  Every  time  a  tick 
bit  he  jumped  as  if  stung.  The  worst  of  it 
ftras  that  he  knew  he  was  collecting  more 
garrapatoes  with  almost  every  step.  When 
he  grasped  a  dead  branch  to  push  it  out  of 
the  way  he  could  feel  the  ticks  cling  to  his 
hand.  Then  he  would  whip  his  arm  in  the 

187 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE    JUNGLE 

air,  flinging  some  of  them  off  to  patter  on  the 
dry  ground.  Impossible  as  it  was  to  run 
through  that  matted  jungle,  Ken  almost  ac- 
complished it.  When  he  got  out  into  the 
open  he  did  run,  not  even  stopping  for  his 
coat,  and  he  crossed  the  flat  at  top  speed. 

It  was  almost  dark  when  Ken  reached  the 
river-bank  and  dashed  down  to  frighten  a 
herd  of  drinking  deer.  He  waded  the  narrow- 
est part  of  the  shoal.  Running  up  the  island 
he  burst  into  the  bright  circle  of  camp-fire. 
Pepe  dropped  a  stew-pan  and  began  to  jabber. 
George  dove  for  a  gun. 

"What's  after  you?"  shouted  Hal,  in 
alarm. 

Ken  was  so  choked  up  and  breathless  that 
at  first  he  could  not  speak.  His  fierce  aspect 
and  actions,  as  he  tore  off  his  sleeveless  and 
ragged  shirt  and  threw  it  into  the  fire,  added 
to  the  boys'  fright. 

"Good  Lord!  are  you  bug-house,  Ken?" 
shrieked  Hal. 

"Bug-house!  Yes!"  roared  Ken,  swiftly  un- 
dressing. "Look  at  me!" 

In  the  bright  glare  he  showed  his  arms 
black  with  garrapatoes  and  a  sprinkling  of 
black  dots  over  the  rest  of  his  body. 

"Is  that  all?"  demanded  Hal,  in  real  or 
simulated  scorn.  "Gee!  but  you're  a  brave 

1 88 


THE   VICIOUS    GARRAPATOES 

hunter.  I  thought  not  less  than  six  tigers 
were  after  you." 

"I'd  rather  have  six  tigers  after  me," 
yelled  Ken.  "You  little  freckle-faced  red- 
head!" 

It  was  seldom  indeed  that  Ken  called  his 
brother  that  name.  Hal  was  proof  against 
any  epithets  except  that  one  relating  to  his 
freckles  and  his  hair.  But  just  now  Ken 
felt  that  he  was  being  eaten  alive.  He  was 
in  an  agony,  and  he  lost  his  temper.  And 
therefore  he  laid  himself  open  to  Hal's  sca- 
thing humor. 

"Never  mind  the  kid,"  said  Ken  to  Pepe 
and  George.  ' '  Hurry  now,  and  get  busy  with 
these  devils  on  me." 

It  was  well  for  Ken  that  he  had  a  native 
like  Pepe  with  him.  For  Pepe  knew  just 
what  to  do.  First  he  dashed  a  bucket  of  cold 
water  over  Ken.  How  welcome  that  was! 

"Pepe  says  for  you  to  point  out  the  ticks 
that  're  biting  the  hardest,"  said  George. 

In  spite  of  his  pain  Ken  stared  in  mute 
surprise. 

"Pepe  wants  you  to  point  out  the  ticks 
that  are  digging  in  the  deepest,"  explained 
George.  "Get  a  move  on,  now." 

"What!"  roared  Ken,  glaring  at  Pepe  and 
George.  He  thought  even  the  native  might 

189 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

be  having  fun  with  him.  And  for  Ken  this 
was  not  a  funny  time. 

But  Pepe  was  in  dead  earnest. 

"Say,  it's  impossible  to  tell  where  I'm  being 
bitten  most!  It's  all  over!"  protested  Ken. 

Still  he  discovered  that  by  absolute  con- 
centration on  the  pain  he  was  enduring  he 
was  able  to  locate  the  severest  points.  And 
that  showed  him  the  soundness  of  Pepe's 
advice. 

"Here — this  one — here — there.  .  .  .  Oh! 
here,"  began  Ken,  indicating  certain  ticks. 

"Not  so  fast,  now,"  interrupted  the  im- 
perturbable George,  as  he  and  Pepe  set  to 
work  upon  Ken. 

Then  the  red-hot  cigarette-tips  scorched 
Ken's  skin.  Ken  kept  pointing  and  accom- 
panying his  directions  with  wild  gestures 
and  exclamations. 

"Here.  .  .  .  Oo-oo!  Here.  .  .  .Wow!  Here. 
.  .  .Ouch! — that  one  stung!  Here ....  Augh! 
Say,  can't  you  hurry?  Here!  ...  Oh!  that 
one  was  in  a  mile!  Here.  .  .  .  Hold  on! 
You're  burning  a  hole  in  me!  .  .  .  George, 
you're  having  fun  out  of  this.  Pepe  gets  two 
to  your  one." 

"He's  been  popping  ticks  all  his  life,"  was 
George's  reasonable  protest. 

"Hurry!"  cried  Ken,  in  desperation. 
190 


THE   VICIOUS    GARRAPATOES 

"George,   if  you   monkey   round — fool  over 
this  job — I'll — I'll  punch  you  good." 

All  this  trying  time  Hal  Ward  sat  on  a 
log  and  watched  the  proceedings  with  great 
interest  and  humor.  Sometimes  he  smiled, 
at  others  he  laughed,  and  yet  again  he  burst 
out  into  uproarious  mirth. 

"George,  he  wouldn't  punch  anybody," 
said  Hal.  "I  tell  you  he's  all  in.  He  hasn't 
any  nerve  left.  It's  a  chance  of  your  life. 
You'll  never  get  another.  He's  been  bossing 
you  around.  Pay  him  up.  Make  him  holler. 
Why,  what's  a  few  little  ticks?  Wouldn't 
phase  me!  But  Ken  Ward's  such  a  delicate, 
fine-skinned,  sensitive,  girly  kind  of  a  boy! 
He's  too  nice  to  be  bitten  by  bugs.  Oh 
dear,  yes,  yes!  .  .  .  Ken,  why  don't  you  show 
courage?" 

Ken  shook  his  fist  at  Hal. 

"All  right,"  said  Ken,  grimly.  "Have  all 
the  fun  you  can.  Because  I'll  get  even  with 
you." 

Hal  relapsed  into  silence,  and  Ken  began  to 
believe  he  had  intimidated  his  brother.  But 
he  soon  realized  how  foolish  it  was  to  suppose 
such  a  thing.  Hal  had  only  been  working 
his  fertile  brain. 

"George,  here's  a  little  verse  for  the  oc- 
casion," said  Hal. 

191 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

"There  was  a  brave  hunter  named  Ken, 
And  he  loved  to  get  skins  for  his  den, 
Not  afraid  was  he  of  tigers  or  pigs, 
Or  snakes  or  cats  or  any  such  things, 
But  one  day  in  the  jungle  he  left  his  clothes, 
And  came  hollering  back  with  garrapatoes." 

"Gre-at-t-t!"  sputtered  Ken.  "Oh,  brother 
mine,  we're  a  long  way  from  home.  I'll 
make  you  crawl." 

Pepe  smoked  and  wore  out  three  cigarettes, 
and  George  two,  before  they  had  popped  all 
the  biting  ticks.  Then  Ken  was  still  covered 
with  them.  Pepe  bathed  him  in  cany  a, 
which  was  like  a  bath  of  fire,  and  soon  removed 
them  all.  Ken  felt  flayed  alive,  peeled  of  his 
skin,  and  sprinkled  with  fiery  sparks.  When 
he  lay  down  he  was  as  weak  as  a  sick  cat. 
Pepe  said  the  canya  would  very  soon  take  the 
sting  away,  but  it  was  some  time  before  Ken 
was  resting  easily. 

It  would  not  have  been  fair  to  ask  Ken  just 
then  whether  the  prize  for  which  he  worked 
was  worth  his  present  gain.  Garrapatoes  may 
not  seem  important  to  one  who  simply  reads 
about  them,  but  such  pests  are  a  formidable 
feature  of  tropical  life. 

However,  Ken  presently  felt  that  he  was 
himself  again. 

Then  he  put  his  mind  to  the  serious  prob- 
192 


THE    VICIOUS    GARRAPATOES 

lem  of  his  note-book  and  the  plotting  of  the 
island.  As  far  as  his  trip  was  concerned, 
Cypress  Island  was  an  important  point. 
When  he  had  completed  his  map  down  to 
the  island,  he  went  on  to  his  notes.  He  be- 
lieved that  what  he  had  found  out  from  his 
knowledge  of  forestry  was  really  worth  some- 
thing. He  had  seen  a  gradual  increase  in  the 
size  and  number  of  trees  as  he  had  proceeded 
down  the  river,  a  difference  in  the  density  and 
color  of  the  jungle,  a  flattening-out  of  the 
mountain  range,  and  a  gradual  change  from 
rocky  to  clayey  soil.  And  on  the  whole  his 
note-book  began  to  assume  such  a  character 
that  he  was  beginning  to  feel  willing  to  submit 
it  to  his  uncle. 


XVI 

FIELD   WORK  OF   A   NATURALIST 

"PHAT  night  Ken  talked  natural  history  to 
1  the  boys  and  read  extracts  from  a  small 
copy  of  Sclater  he  had  brought  with  him. 

They  were  all  particularly  interested  in  the 
cat  tribe. 

The  fore  feet  of  all  cats  have  five  toes,  the 
hind  feet  only  four.  Their  claws  are  curved 
and  sharp,  and,  except  in  case  of  one  species 
of  leopard,  can  be  retracted  in  their  sheaths. 
The  claws  of  the  great  cat  species  are  kept 
sharp  by  pulling  them  down  through  bark 
of  trees.  All  cats  walk  on  their  toes.  And 
the  stealthy  walk  is  due  to  hairy  pads  or 
cushions.  The  claws  of  a  cat  do  not  show  in 
its  track  as  do  those  of  a  dog.  The  tongues 
of  all  cats  are  furnished  with  large  papillae. 
They  are  like  files,  and  the  use  is  to  lick  bones 
and  clean  their  fur.  Their  long  whiskers  are 
delicate  organs  of  perception  to  aid  them  in 
finding  their  way  on  their  night  quests.  The 
eyes  of  all  cats  are  large  and  full,  and  can  be 

194 


FIELD    WORK    OF   A    NATURALIST 

altered  by  contraction  or  expansion  of  iris, 
according  to  the  amount  of  light  they  receive. 
The  usual  color  is  gray  or  tawny  with  dark 
spots  or  stripes.  The  uniform  tawny  color 
of  the  lion  and  the  panther  is  perhaps  an 
acquired  color,  probably  from  the  habit  of 
these  animals  of  living  in  desert  countries.  It 
is  likely  that  in  primitive  times  cats  were  all 
spotted  or  striped. 

Naturally  the  boys  were  most  interested 
in  the  jaguar,  which  is  the  largest  of  the  cat 
tribe  in  the  New  World.  The  jaguar  ranges 
from  northern  Mexico  to  northern  Patagonia. 
Its  spots  are  larger  than  those  of  the  leopard. 
Their  ground  color  is  a  rich  tan  or  yellow, 
sometimes  almost  gold.  Large  specimens 
have  been  known  nearly  seven  feet  from  nose 
to  end  of  tail. 

The  jaguar  is  an  expert  climber  and  swim- 
mer. Humboldt  says  that  where  the  South 
American  forests  are  subject  to  floods  the 
jaguar  sometimes  takes  to  tree  life,  living  on 
monkeys.  All  naturalists  agree  on  the  fero- 
cious nature  of  jaguars,  and  on  the  loudness 
and  frequency  of  their  cries.  There  is  no 
record  of  their  attacking  human  beings  with- 
out provocation.  Their  favorite  haunts  are 
the  banks  of  jungle  rivers,  and  they  often  prey 
upon  fish  and  turtles. 

195 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

The  attack  of  a  jaguar  is  terrible.  It 
leaps  on  the  back  of  its  prey  and  breaks  its 
neck.  In  some  places  there  are  well-known 
scratching  trees  where  jaguars  sharpen  their 
claws.  The  bark  is  worn  smooth  in  front 
from  contact  with  the  breasts  of  the  animals 
as  they  stand  up,  and  there  is  a  deep  groove 
on  each  side.  When  new  scars  appear  on 
these  trees  it  is  known  that  jaguars  are  in  the 
vicinity.  The  cry  of  the  jaguar  is  loud,  deep, 
hoarse,  something  like  pu,  pu,  pu.  There  is 
much  enmity  between  the  panther,  or  moun- 
tain-lion, and  the  jaguar,  and  it  is  very  strange 
that  generally  the  jaguar  fears  the  lion,  al- 
though he  is  larger  and  more  powerful. 

Pepe  had  interesting  things  to  say  about 
jaguars,  or  tigres,  as  he  called  them.  But 
Ken,  of  course,  could  not  tell  how  much 
Pepe  said  was  truth  and  how  much  just  native 
talk.  At  any  rate,  Pepe  told  of  one  Mexican 
who  had  a  blind  and  deaf  jaguar  that  he  had 
tamed.  Ken  knew  that  naturalists  claimed 
the  jaguar  could  not  be  tamed,  but  in  this 
instance  Ken  was  inclined  to  believe  Pepe. 
This  blind  jaguar  was  enormous  in  size, 
terrible  of  aspect,  and  had  been  trained  to 
trail  anything  his  master  set  him  to.  And 
Tigre,  as  he  was  called,  never  slept  or  stopped 
till  he  had  killed  the  thing  he  was  trailing. 

196 


FIELD  WORK   OF   A    NATURALIST 

As  he  was  blind  and  deaf,  his  power  of  scent 
had  been  abnormally  developed. 

Pepe  told  of  a  fight  between  a  huge  crocodile 
and  a  jaguar  in  which  both  were  killed.  He 
said  jaguars  stalked  natives  and  had  abso- 
lutely no  fear.  He  knew  natives  who  said  that 
jaguars  had  made  off  with  children  and  eaten 
them.  Lastly,  Pepe  told  of  an  incident  that 
had  happened  in  Tampico  the  year  before. 
There  was  a  ship  at  dock  below  Tampico, 
just  on  the  outskirts  where  the  jungle  began, 
and  one  day  at  noon  two  big  jaguars  leaped 
on  the  deck.  They  frightened  the  crew  out 
of  their  wits.  George  verified  this  story,  and 
added  that  the  jaguars  had  been  chased  by 
dogs,  had  boarded  the  ship,  where  they 
climbed  into  the  rigging,  and  stayed  there 
till  they  were  shot. 

"Well,"  said  Ken,  thoughtfully,  "from  my 
experience  I  believe  a  jaguar  would  do  any- 
thing." 

The  following  day  promised  to  be  a  busy 
one  for  Hal,  without  any  time  for  tricks. 
George  went  hunting  before  breakfast— in 
fact,  before  the  others  were  up — and  just  as 
the  boys  were  sitting  down  to  eat  he  appeared 
on  the  nearer  bank  and  yelled  for  Pepe. 
It  developed  that  for  once  George  had  bagged 
game. 

197 


KEN    WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

He  had  a  black  squirrel,  a  small  striped  wild- 
cat, a  peccary,  a  three-foot  crocodile,  and  a 
duck  of  rare  plumage. 

After  breakfast  Hal  straightway  got  busy, 
and  his  skill  and  knowledge  earned  praise 
from  George  and  Pepe.  They  volunteered 
to  help,  which  offer  Hal  gratefully  accepted. 
He  had  brought  along  a  folding  canvas  tank, 
forceps,  knives,  scissors,  several  packages  of 
preservatives,  and  tin  boxes  in  which  to  pack 
small  skins. 

His  first  task  was  to  mix  a  salt  solution 
in  the  canvas  tank.  This  was  for  immersing 
skins.  Then  he  made  a  paste  of  salt  and 
alum,  and  after  that  a  mixture  of  two-thirds 
glycerin  and  one-third  water  and  carbolic 
acid,  which  was  for  preserving  small  skins 
and  to  keep  them  soft. 

And  as  he  worked  he  gave  George  direc- 
tions on  how  to  proceed  with  the  wildcat 
and  squirrel  skins. 

"Skin  carefully  and  tack  up  the  pelts  fur 
side  down.  Scrape  off  all  the  fat  and  oil, 
but  don't  scrape  through.  To-morrow  when 
the  skins  are  dry  soak  them  in  cold  water 
till  soft.  Then  take  them  out  and  squeeze 
dry.  I'll  make  a  solution  of  three  quarts 
water,  one-half  pint  salt,  and  one  ounce  oil 
of  vitriol.  Put  the  skins  in  that  for  half  an 

198 


FIELD  WORK    OF  A  NATURALIST 

hour.  Squeeze  dry  again,  and  hang  in  shade. 
That  '11  tan  the  skin,  and  the  moths  will  never 
hurt  them." 

When  Hal  came  to  take  up  the  duck  he 
was  sorry  that  some  of  the  beautiful  plumage 
had  been  stained. 

"I  want  only  a  few  water-fowl,"  he  said. 
"And  particularly  one  of  the  big  Muscovies. 
And  you  must  keep  the  feathers  from  getting 
soiled." 

It  was  interesting  to  watch  Hal  handle 
that  specimen.  First  he  took  full  measure- 
ments. Then,  separating  the  feathers  along 
the  breast,  he  made  an  incision  with  a  sharp 
knife,  beginning  high  up  on  breast-bone  and 
ending  at  tail.  He  exercised  care  so  as  not 
to  cut  through  the  abdomen.  Raising  the  skin 
carefully  along  the  cut  as  far  as  the  muscles  of 
the  leg,  he  pushed  out  the  knee  joint  and  cut  it 
off.  Then  he  loosened  the  skin  from  the  legs 
and  the  back,  and  bent  the  tail  down  to  cut 
through  the  tail  joint.  Next  he  removed  the 
skin  from  the  body  and  cut  off  the  wings  at 
the  shoulder  joint.  Then  he  proceeded  down 
the  neck,  being  careful  not  to  pull  or  stretch  the 
skin.  Extreme  care  was  necessary  in  cutting 
round  the  eyes.  Then,  when  he  had  loosened 
the  skin  from  the  skull,  he  severed  the  head 
and  cleaned  out  the  skull.  He  coated  all 

14  199 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

with  the  paste,  filled  the  skull  with  cotton, 
and  then  immersed  them  in  the  glycerin 
bath. 

The  skinning  of  the  crocodile  was  an  easy 
matter  compared  with  that  of  the  duck.  Hal 
made  an  incision  at  the  throat,  cut  along  the 
middle  of  the  abdomen  all  the  way  to  the  tip 
of  the  tail,  and  then  cut  the  skin  away  all 
around  the  carcass.  Then  he  set  George  and 
Pepe  to  scraping  the  skin,  after  which  he 
immersed  it  in  the  tank. 

About  that  time  Ken,  who  was  lazily  fishing 
in  the  shade  of  the  cypresses,  caught  one  of 
the  blue-tailed  fish.  Hal  was  delighted.  He 
had  made  a  failure  of  the  other  specimen  of 
this  unknown  fish.  This  one  was  larger  and 
exquisitely  marked,  being  dark  gold  on  the 
back,  white  along  the  belly,  and  its  tail  had 
a  faint  bluish  tinge.  Hal  promptly  killed 
the  fish,  and  then  made  a  dive  for  his  suit- 
case. He  produced  several  sheets  of  stiff 
cardboard  and  a  small  box  of  water-colors 
and  brushes.  He  laid  the  fish  down  on  a 
piece  of  paper  and  outlined  its  exact  size. 
Then,  placing  it  carefully  in  an  upright 
position  on  a  box,  he  began  to  paint  it  in  the 
actual  colors  of  the  moment.  Ken  laughed 
and  teased  him.  George  also  was  inclined  to 
be  amused.  But  Pepe  was  amazed  and  de- 

200 


FIELD  WORK   OF  A  NATURALIST 

lighted.  Hal  worked  on  unmindful  of  his 
audience,  and,  though  he  did  not  paint  a  very 
artistic  picture,  he  produced  the  vivid  colors 
of  the  fish  before  they  faded. 

His  next  move  was  to  cover  the  fish  with 
strips  of  thin  cloth,  which  adhered  to  the  scales 
and  kept  them  from  being  damaged.  Then  he 
cut  along  the  middle  line  of  the  belly,  divided 
the  pelvic  arch  where  the  ventral  fins  joined, 
cut  through  the  spines,  and  severed  the  fins 
from  the  bones.  Then  he  skinned  down  to  the 
tail,  up  to  the  back,  and  cut  through  caudal 
processes.  The  vertebral  column  he  severed 
at  the  base  of  the  skull.  He  cleaned  and 
scraped  the  entire  inside  of  the  skin,  and  then 
put  it  to  soak. 

"Hal,  you're  much  more  likely  to  make  good 
with  Uncle  Jim  than  I  am,"  said  Ken. 
"You've  really  got  skill,  and  you  know  what 
to  do.  Now,  my  job  is  different.  So  far 
I've  done  fairly  well  with  my  map  of  the  river. 
But  as  soon  as  we  get  on  level  ground  I'll 
be  stumped." 

"We'll  cover  a  hundred  miles  before  we  get 
to  low  land,"  replied  Hal,  cheerily.  "That's 
enough,  even  if  we  do  get  lost  for  the  rest 
of  the  way.  You'll  win  that  trip  abroad, 
Ken,  never  fear,  and  little  Willie  is  going 
to  be  with  you." 

201 


XVII 

A  MIXED-UP  TIGER-HUNT 

NEXT  morning  Hal  arose  bright  as  a  lark, 
but  silent,  mysterious,  and  with  far- 
seeing  eyes.  It  made  Ken  groan  in  spirit  to 
look  at  the  boy.  Yes,  indeed,  they  were  far 
from  home,  and  the  person  did  not  live  on  the 
earth  who  could  play  a  trick  on  Hal  Ward 
and  escape  vengeance. 

After  breakfast  Hal  went  off  with  a  long- 
handled  landing-net,  obviously  to  capture 
birds  or  fish  or  mice  or  something. 

George  said  he  did  not  feel  very  well,  and 
he  looked  grouchy.  He  growled  around  camp 
in  a  way  that  might  have  nettled  Ken,  but 
Ken,  having  had  ten  hours  of  undisturbed  sleep, 
could  not  have  found  fault  with  anybody. 

"Garrapato  George,  come  out  of  it.  Cheer 
up,"  said  Ken.  "Why  don't  you  take  Pini- 
lius  Pepe  as  gun-bearer  and  go  out  to  shoot 
something?  You  haven't  used  up  much  am- 
munition yet." 

Ken's  sarcasm  was  not  lost  upon  George. 
202 


A   MIXED-UP   TIGER-HUNT 

"Well,  if  I  do  go,  I'll  not  come  running 
back  to  camp  without  some  game." 

"My  son,"  replied  Ken,  genially,  "if  you 
should  happen  to  meet  a  jaguar  you'd — you'd 
just  let  out  one  squawk  and  then  never  touch 
even  the  high  places  of  the  jungle.  You'd 
take  that  crazy  .32  rifle  for  a  golf -stick." 

"Would  I?"  returned  George.     "All  right." 

Ken  watched  George  awhile  that  morning. 
The  lad  performed  a  lot  of  weird  things  around 
camp.  Then  he  bounced  bullets  off  the  water 
in  vain  effort  to  locate  the  basking  crocodile. 
Then  he  tried  his  hand  at  fishing  once  more. 
He  could  get  more  bites  than  any  fisherman 
Ken  ever  saw,  but  he  could  not  catch  any- 
thing. 

By  and  by  the  heat  made  Ken  drowsy, 
and,  stretching  himself  in  the  shade,  he 
thought  of  a  scheme  to  rid  the  camp  of  the 
noisy  George. 

"Say,  George,  take  my  hammerless  and  get 
Pepe  to  row  you  up  along  the  shady  bank  of 
the  river,"  suggested  Ken.  "Go  sneaking 
along  and  you'll  have  some  sport." 

George  was  delighted  with  that  idea.  He 
had  often  cast  longing  eyes  at  the  hammerless 
gun.  Pepe,  too,  looked  exceedingly  pleased. 
They  got  in  the  boat  and  were  in  the  act  of 
starting  when  George  jumped  ashore.  He 

203 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE    JUNGLE 

reached  for  his  .32  and  threw  the  lever  down 
to  see  if  there  was  a  shell  in  the  chamber. 
Then  he  proceeded  to  fill  his  pockets  with 
ammunition. 

"Might  need  a  rifle,"  he  said.  "You  can't 
tell  what  you're  going  to  see  in  this  unholy 
jungle." 

Whereupon  he  went  aboard  again  and  Pepe 
rowed  leisurely  up-stream. 

"Be  careful,  boys,"  Ken  called,  and  com- 
posed himself  for  a  nap.  He  promptly  fell 
asleep.  How  long  he  slept  he  had  no  idea, 
and  when  he  awoke  he  lay  with  languor,  not 
knowing  at  the  moment  what  had  awakened 
him.  Presently  he  heard  a  shout,  then  a 
rifle-shot.  Sitting  up,  he  saw  the  boat  some 
two  hundred  yards  above,  drifting  along 
about  the  edge  of  the  shade.  Pepe  was  in  it 
alone.  He  appeared  to  be  excited,  for  Ken 
observed  him  lay  down  an  oar  and  pick  up  a 
gun,  and  then  reverse  the  performance.  Also 
he  was  jabbering  to  George,  who  evidently 
was  out  on  the  bank,  but  invisible  to  Ken. 

"Hey,  Pepe!"  Ken  yelled.  "What  're  you 
doing?" 

Strange  to  note,  Pepe  did  not  reply  or  even 
turn. 

"Now  where  in  the  deuce  is  George?"  Ken 
said,  impatiently. 

204 


A   MIXED-UP   TIGER-HUNT 

The  hollow  crack  of  George's  .32  was  a 
reply  to  the  question.  Ken  heard  the  sing- 
ing of  a  bullet.  Suddenly,  spou!  it  twanged 
on  a  branch  not  twenty  feet  over  his  head, 
and  then  went  whining  away.  He  heard  it 
tick  a  few  leaves  or  twigs.  There  was  not 
any  languor  in  the  alacrity  with  which  Ken 
put  the  big  cypress-tree  between  him  and 
up-stream.  Then  he  ventured  to  peep 
forth. 

"Look  out  where  you're  slinging  lead!" 
he  yelled.  He  doubted  not  that  George  had 
treed  a  black  squirrel  or  was  pegging  away  at 
parrots.  Yet  Pepe's  motions  appeared  to 
carry  a  good  deal  of  feeling,  too  much,  he 
thought  presently,  for  small  game.  So  Ken 
began  to  wake  up  thoroughly.  He  lost  sight 
of  Pepe  behind  a  low  branch  of  a  tree  that 
leaned  some  fifty  yards  above  the  island. 
Then  he  caught  sight  of  him  again.  He  was 
poling  with  an  oar,  evidently  trying  to  go  up 
or  down — Ken  could  not  tell  which. 

Spang!  Spang!  George's  .32  spoke  twice 
more,  and  the  bullets  both  struck  in  the  middle 
of  the  stream  and  ricochetted  into  the  far 
bank  with  little  thuds. 

Something  prompted  Ken  to  reach  for  his 
automatic,  snap  the  clip  in  tight,  and  push 
in  the  safety.  At  the  same  time  he  muttered 

205 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

George's  words:  "You  can  never  tell  what's 
coming  off  in  this  unholy  jungle." 

Then,  peeping  out  from  behind  the  cypress, 
Ken  watched  the  boat  drift  down-stream. 
Pepe  had  stopped  poling  and  was  looking 
closely  into  the  thick  grass  and  vines  of  the 
bank.  Ken  heard  his  voice,  but  could  not 
tell  what  he  said.  He  watched  keenly  for 
some  sight  of  George.  The  moments  passed, 
the  boat  drifted,  and  Ken  began  to  think 
there  was  nothing  unusual  afoot.  In  this 
interval  Pepe  drifted  within  seventy-five  yards 
of  camp.  Again  Ken  called  to  ask  him  what 
George  was  stalking,  and  this  time  Pepe  yelled ; 
but  Ken  did  not  know  what  he  said.  Hard 
upon  this  came  George's  sharp  voice: 

"Look  out,  there,  on  the  island.  Get  be- 
hind something.  I've  got  him  between  the 
river  and  the  flat.  He's  in  this  strip  of  shore 
brush.  There!" 

Spang!  Spang!  Spang!  Bullets  hummed 
and  whistled  all  about  the  island.  Ken  was 
afraid  to  peep  out  with  even  one  eye.  He 
began  to  fancy  that  George  was  playing 
Indian. 

"Fine,  Georgie!  You're  doing  great!"  he 
shouted.  "You  couldn't  come  any  closer  to 
me  if  you  were  aiming  at  me.  What  is  it?" 

Then  a  crashing  of  brush  and  a  flash  of 
206 


A   MIXED-UP   TIGER-HUNT 

yellow  low  down  along  the  bank  changed  the 
aspect  of  the  situation. 

"Panther!  or  jaguar!"  Ken  ejaculated,  in 
amaze.  In  a  second  he  was  tight-muscled, 
cold,  and  clear-witted.  At  that  instant  he 
saw  George's  white  shirt  about  the  top  of  the 
brush. 

"Go  back!  Get  out  in  the  open!"  Ken 
ordered.  "Do  you  hear  me?" 

"Where  is  he?"  shouted  George,  paying  not 
the  slightest  attention  to  Ken.  Ken  jumped 
from  behind  the  tree,  and,  running  to  the 
head  of  the  island,  he  knelt  low  near  the  water 
with  rifle  ready. 

"Tigre!  Tigre!  Tigre!"  screamed  Pepe, 
waving  his  arms,  then  pointing. 

George  crashed  into  the  brush.  Ken  saw 
the  leaves  move,  then  a  long  yellow  shape. 
With  the  quickness  of  thought  and  the  aim 
of  the  wing-shot,  Ken  fired.  From  the  brush 
rose  a  strange  wild  scream.  George  aimed 
at  a  shaking  mass  of  grass  and  vines,  but, 
before  he  could  fire,  a  long,  lean,  ugly  beast 
leaped  straight  out  from  the  bank  to  drop 
into  the  water  with  a  heavy  splash. 

Like  a  man  half  scared  to  death  Pepe  waved 
Ken's  double-barreled  gun.  Then  a  yellow 
head  emerged  from  the  water.  It  was  in  line 
with  the  boat.  Ken  dared  not  shoot. 

207 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

"Kill  him,  George,"  yelled  Ken.  "Tell 
Pepe  to  kiU  him." 

George  seemed  unaccountably  silent.  But 
Ken  had  no  time  to  look  for  him,  for  his 
eyes  were  riveted  on  Pepe.  The  native  did 
not  know  how  to  hold  a  gun  properly,  let 
alone  aim  it.  He  had,  however,  sense  enough 
to  try.  He  got  the  stock  under  his  chin, 
and,  pointing  the  gun,  he  evidently  tried  to 
fire.  But  the  hammerless  did  not  go  off. 
Then  Pepe  fumbled  at  the  safety-catch,  which 
he  evidently  remembered  seeing  Ken  use. 

The  jaguar,  swimming  with  difficulty,  per- 
haps badly  wounded,  made  right  for  the  boat. 
Pepe  was  standing  on  the  seat.  Awkwardly 
he  aimed. 

Boom!  He  had  pulled  both  triggers.  The 
recoil  knocked  him  backward.  The  hammer- 
less  fell  in  the  boat,  and  Pepe's  broad  back  hit 
the  water;  his  bare,  muscular  legs  clung  to 
the  gunwale,  and  slipped  loose. 

He  had  missed  the  jaguar,  for  it  kept  on 
toward  the  boat.  Still  Ken  dared  not  shoot. 

' '  George,  what  on  earth  is  the  matter  with 
you?"  shouted  Ken. 

Then  Ken  saw  him  standing  in  the  brush 
on  the  bank,  fussing  over  the  crazy  .32.  Of 
course  at  the  critical  moment  something  had 
gone  wrong  with  the  old  rifle, 

208 


A   MIXED-UP   TIGER-HUNT 

Pepe's  head  bobbed  up  just  on  the  other 
side  of  the  boat.  The  jaguar  was  scarcely 
twenty  feet  distant  and  now  in  line  with  both 
boat  and  man.  At  that  instant  a  heavy  swirl 
in  the  water  toward  the  middle  of  the  river 
drew  Ken's  attention.  He  saw  the  big  croc- 
odile, and  the  great  creature  did  not  seem  at 
all  lazy  at  that  moment. 

George  began  to  scream  in  Spanish.  Ken 
felt  his  hair  stiffen  and  his  face  blanch.  Pepe, 
who  had  been  solely  occupied  with  the 
jaguar,  caught  George's  meaning  and  turned 
to  see  the  peril  in  his  rear. 

He  bawled  his  familiar  appeal  to  the  saints. 
Then  he  grasped  the  gunwale  of  the  boat 
just  as  it  swung  against  the  branches  of  the 
low-leaning  tree.  He  vaulted  rather  than 
climbed  aboard. 

Ken  forgot  that  Pepe  could  understand 
little  English,  and  he  yelled:  "Grab  an  oar, 
Pepe.  Keep  the  jaguar  in  the  water.  Don't 
let  him  in  the  boat." 

But  Pepe,  even  if  he  had  understood,  had 
a  better  idea.  Nimble,  he  ran  over  the  boat 
and  grasped  the  branches  of  the  tree  just  as 
the  jaguar  flopped  paws  and  head  over  the 
stern  gunwale. 

Ken  had  only  a  fleeting  instant  to  get  a 
bead  on  that  yellow  body,  and  before  he  could 

209 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

be  sure  of  an  aim  the  branch  weighted  with 
Pepe  sank  down  to  hide  both  boat  and 
jaguar.  The  chill  of  fear  for  Pepe  changed  to 
hot  rage  at  this  new  difficulty. 

Then  George  began  to  shoot. 

Spang! 

Ken  heard  the  bullet  hit  the  boat. 

"George — wait!"  shouted  Ken.  "Don't 
shoot  holes  in  the  boat.  You'll  sink  it." 

Spang!    Spang!    Spang!    Spang! 

That  was  as  much  as  George  cared  about 
such  a  possibility.  He  stood  on  the  bank  and 
worked  the  lever  of  his  .32  with  wild  haste. 
Ken  plainly  heard  the  spat  of  the  bullets,  and 
the  sound  was  that  of  lead  in  contact  with 
wood.  So  he  knew  George  was  not  hitting 
the  jaguar. 

"You'll  ruin  the  boat!"  roared  Ken. 

Pepe  had  worked  up  from  the  lower  end 
of  the  branch,  and  as  soon  as  he  straddled 
it  and  hunched  himself  nearer  shore  the  foli- 
age rose  out  of  the  water,  exposing  the  boat. 
George  kept  on  shooting  till  his  magazine  was 
empty.  Ken's  position  was  too  low  for  him 
to  see  the  jaguar. 

Then  the  boat  swung  loose  from  the  branch 
and,  drifting  down,  gradually  approached  the 
shore. 

"Pull   yourself   together,    George,"    called 

210 


A   MIXED-UP   TIGER- HUNT 

Ken.  "Keep  cool.  Make  sure  of  your  aim. 
We've  got  him  now." 

"He's  mine!  He's  mine!  He's  mine! 
Don't  you  dare  shoot!"  howled  George.  "I 
got  him!" 

"All  right.  But  steady  up,  can't  you? 
Hit  him  once,  anyway." 

Apparently  without  aim  George  fired.  Then, 
jerking  the  lever,  he  fired  again.  The  boat 
drifted  into  overhanging  vines.  Once  more 
Ken  saw  a  yellow  and  black  object,  then  a 
trembling  trail  of  leaves. 

"He's  coming  out  below  you.  Look  out," 
yelled  Ken. 

George  disappeared.  Ken  saw  no  sign  of 
the  jaguar  and  heard  no  shot  or  shout  from 
George.  Pepe  dropped  from  his  branch  to 
the  bank  and  caught  the  boat.  Ken  called, 
and  while  Pepe  rowed  over  to  the  island,  he 
got  into  some  clothes  fit  to  hunt  in.  Then 
they  hurried  back  across  the  channel  to  the 
bank. 

Ken  found  the  trail  of  the  jaguar,  followed 
it  up  to  the  edge  of  the  brush,  and  lost  it  in 
the  weedy  flat.  George  came  out  of  a  patch 
of  bamboos.  He  looked  white  and  shaky 
and  wild  with  disappointment. 

"Oh,  I  had  a  dandy  shot  as  he  came  out, 
but  the  blamed  gun  jammed  again.  Come 

211 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE    JUNGLE 

on,  we'll  get  him.  He's  all  shot  up.  I  bet 
I  hit  him  ten  times.  He  won't  get  away." 

Ken  finally  got  George  back  to  camp.  The 
boat  was  half  full  of  water,  making  it  necessary 
to  pull  it  out  on  the  bank  and  turn  it  over. 
There  were  ten  bullet -holes  in  it. 

"George,  you  hit  the  boat,  anyway,"  Ken 
said;  "now  we've  a  job  on  our  hands." 

Hal  came  puffing  into  camp.  He  was  red 
of  face,  and  the  sweat  stood  out  on  his  fore- 
head. He  had  a  small  animal  of  some  kind 
in  a  sack,  and  his  legs  were  wet  to  his  knees. 

"What  was — all  the — pegging  about?"  he 
asked,  breathlessly.  "  I  expected  to  find  camp 
surrounded  by  Indians." 

"Kid,  it's  been  pretty  hot  round  here  for  a 
little.  George  and  Pepe  rounded  up  a  tiger. 
Tell  us  about  it,  George,"  said  Ken. 

So  while  Ken  began  to  whittle  pegs  to 
pound  into  the  bullet-holes,  George  wiped  his 
flushed,  sweaty  face  and  talked. 

"We  were  up  there  a  piece,  round  the  bend. 
I  saw  a  black  squirrel  and  went  ashore  to  get 
him.  But  I  couldn't  find  him,  and  in  kick- 
ing round  in  the  brush  I  came  into  a  kind  of 
trail  or  runway.  Then  I  ran  plumb  into  that 
darned  jaguar.  I  was  so  scared  I  couldn't 
remember  my  gun.  But  the  cat  turned  and 
ran.  It  was  lucky  he  didn't  make  at  me. 

212 


A   MIXED-UP   TIGER-HUNT 

When  I  saw  him  run  I  got  back  my  courage. 
I  called  for  Pepe  to  row  down-stream  and  keep 
a  lookout.  Then  I  got  into  the  flat.  I  must 
have  come  down  a  good  ways  before  I  saw 
him.  I  shot,  and  he  dodged  back  into  the 
brush  again.  I  fired  into  the  moving  bushes 
where  he  was.  And  pretty  soon  I  ventured 
to  get  in  on  the  bank,  where  I  had  a  better 
chance.  I  guess  it  was  about  that  time  that 
I  heard  you  yell.  Then  it  all  happened. 
You  hit  him!  Didn't  you  hear  him  scream? 
What  a  jump  he  made!  If  it  hadn't  been 
so  terrible  when  your  hammerless  kicked 
Pepe  overboard,  I  would  have  died  laughing. 
Then  I  was  paralyzed  when  the  jaguar  swam 
for  the  boat.  He  was  hurt,  for  the  water  was 
bloody.  Things  came  off  quick,  I  tell  you. 
Like  a  monkey  Pepe  scrambled  into  the  tree. 
When  I  got  my  gun  loaded  the  jaguar  was 
crouched  down  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat 
watching  Pepe.  Then  I  began  to  shoot.  I 
can't  realize  he  got  away  from  us.  What 
was  the  reason  you  didn't  knock  him?" 

"Well,  you  see,  George,  there  were  two 
good  reasons,"  Ken  replied.  "The  first  was 
that  at  that  time  I  was  busy  dodging  bullets 
from  your  rifle.  And  the  second  was  that  you 
threatened  my  life  if  I  killed  your  jaguar." 

"Did  I  get  as  nutty  as  that?  But  it  was 
213 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

pretty  warm  there  for  a  little.  ...  Say,  was 
he  a  big  one?  My  eyes  were  so  hazy  I  didn't 
see  him  clear." 

"He  wasn't  big,  not  half  as  big  as  the  one 
I  lost  yesterday.  Yours  was  a  long,  wiry 
beast,  like  a  panther,  and  mean -looking." 

Pepe  sat  on  the  bank,  and  while  he  nursed 
his  bruises  he  smoked.  Once  he  made  a 
speech  that  was  untranslatable,  but  Hal  gave 
it  an  interpretation  which  was  probably  near 
correct. 

"That's  right,  Pepe.  Pretty  punk  tiger- 
hunters — mucho  punk!" 


XVIII 

WATCHING  A   RUNWAY 

"I'LL  tell  you  what,  fellows,"  said  Hal.  "I 
1  know  where  we  can  get  a  tiger." 

"We'll  get  one  in  the  neck  if  we  don't 
watch  out,"  replied  George. 

Ken  thought  that  Hal  Ic-oked  very  frank 
and  earnest,  and  honest  and  eager,  but  there 
was  never  any  telling  about  him. 

"  Where?"  he  asked,  skeptically. 

"Down  along  the  river.  You  know  I've 
been  setting  traps  all  along.  There's  a  flat 
sand-bar  for  a  good  piece  down.  I  came  to 
a  little  gully  full  of  big  tracks,  big  as  my 
two  hands.  And  fresh!" 

"Honest  Injun,  kid?"  queried  Ken. 

"Hope  to  die  if  I'm  lyin',"  replied  Hal. 
"I  want  to  see  somebody  kill  a  tiger.  Now 
let's  go  down  there  in  the  boat  and  wait  for 
one  to  come  to  drink.  There's  a  big  log  with 
driftwood  lodged  on  it.  We  can  hide  be- 
hind that." 

"Great  idea,  Hal,"  said  Ken.     "We'd  be 

15  215 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

pretty  safe  in  the  boat.  I  want  to  say  that 
tigers  have  sort  of  got  on  my  nerves.  I  ought 
to  go  over  in  the  jungle  to  look  for  the  one  I 
crippled.  He's  dead  by  now.  But  the  longer 
I  put  it  off  the  harder  it  is  to  go.  I'll  back 
out  yet.  .  .  .  Come,  we'll  have  an  early  dinner. 
Then  to  watch  for  Hal's  tiger." 

The  sun  had  just  set,  and  the  hot  breeze 
began  to  swirl  up  the  river  when  Ken  slid  the 
boat  into  the  water.  He  was  pleased  to 
find  that  it  did  not  leak. 

"We'll  take  only  two  guns,"  said  Ken, 
"my  .351  and  the  hammerless,  with  some  ball- 
cartridges.  We  want  to  be  quiet  to-night,  and 
if  you  fellows  take  your  guns  you'll  be  pegging 
at  ducks  and  things.  That  won't  do." 

Pepe  sat  at  the  oars  with  instructions  to 
row  easily.  George  and  Hal  occupied  the 
stern-seats,  and  Ken  took  his  place  in  the  bow, 
with  both  guns  at  hand. 

The  hot  wind  roared  in  the  cypresses,  and 
the  river  whipped  up  little  waves  with  white 
crests.  Long  streamers  of  gray  moss  waved 
out  over  the  water  and  branches  tossed  and 
swayed.  The  blow  did  not  last  for  many 
minutes.  Trees  and  river  once  more  grew 
quiet.  And  suddenly  the  heat  was  gone. 

As  Pepe  rowed  on  down  the  river,  Cypress 
Island  began  to  disappear  round  a  bend,  and 

216 


WATCHING   A    RUNWAY 

presently  was  out  of  sight.  Ducks  were  al- 
ready in  flight.  They  flew  low  over  the  boat, 
so  low  that  Ken  could  almost  have  reached 
them  with  the  barrel  of  his  gun.  The  river  here 
widened.  It  was  full  of  huge  snags.  A  high, 
wooded  bluff  shadowed  the  western  shore.  On 
the  left,  towering  cypresses,  all  laced  together 
in  dense  vine  and  moss  webs,  leaned  out. 

Under  Hal's  direction  Pepe  rowed  to  a  pile 
of  driftwood,  and  here  the  boat  was  moored. 
The  gully  mentioned  by  Hal  was  some  sixty 
yards  distant.  It  opened  like  the  mouth  of 
a  cave.  Beyond  the  cypresses  thick,  inter- 
twining bamboos  covered  it. 

"I  wish  we'd  gone  in  to  see  the  tracks," 
said  Ken.  "But  I'll  take  your  word,  Hal." 

"Oh,  they're  there,  all  right." 

"I  don't  doubt  it.  Looks  great  to  me! 
That's  a  runway,  Hal.  .  .  .  Now,  boys,  get  a 
comfortable  seat,  and  settle  down  to  wait. 
Don't  talk.  Just  listen  and  watch.  Re- 
member, soon  we'll  be  out  of  the  jungle, 
back  home.  So  make  hay  while  the  sun 
shines.  Watch  and  listen!  Whoever  sees 
or  hears  anything  first  is  the  best  man." 

For  once  the  boys  were  as  obedient  as 
lambs.  But  then,  Ken  thought,  the  surround- 
ings were  so  beautiful  and  wild  and  silent  that 
any  boys  would  have  been  watchful. 

217 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

There  was  absolutely  no  sound  but  the  in- 
termittent whir  of  wings.  The  water-fowl 
flew  by  in  companies — ducks,  cranes,  herons, 
snipe,  and  the  great  Muscovies.  Ken  never 
would  have  tired  of  that  procession.  It 
passed  all  too  soon,  and  then  only  an  oc- 
casional water-fowl  swept  swiftly  by,  as  if 
belated. 

Slowly  the  wide  river-lane  shaded.  But  it 
was  still  daylight,  and  the  bank  and  the  run- 
way were  clearly  distinguishable.  There  was 
a  moment — Ken  could  not  tell  just  how  he 
knew — when  the  jungle  awakened.  It  was  not 
only  the  faint  hum  of  insects;  it  was  a  sense 
as  if  life  stirred  with  the  coming  of  twilight. 

Pepe  was  the  first  to  earn  honors  at  the 
listening  game.  He  held  up  a  warning  fore- 
finger. Then  he  pointed  under  the  bluff. 
Ken  saw  a  doe  stepping  out  of  a  fringe  of 
willows. 

"Don't  move — don't  make  a  noise,"  whis- 
pered Ken. 

The  doe  shot  up  long  ears  and  watched  the 
boat.  Then  a  little  fawn  trotted  out  and 
splashed  in  the  water.  Both  deer  drank, 
then  seemed  in  no  hurry  to  leave  the  river. 

Next  moment  Hal  heard  something  down- 
stream and  George  saw  something  up-stream. 
Pepe  again  whispered.  As  for  Ken,  he  saw 

218 


WATCHING   A    RUNWAY 

little  dark  shapes  moving  out  of  the  shadow 
of  the  runway.  He  heard  a  faint  trampling 
of  hard  little  hoofs.  But  if  these  animals 
were  javelin — of  which  he  was  sure — they  did 
not  come  out  into  the  open  runway.  Ken 
tried  to  catch  Pepe's  attention  without  mak- 
ing a  noise;  however,  Pepe  was  absorbed  in 
his  side  of  the  river.  Ken  then  forgot  he 
had  companions.  All  along  the  shores  were 
faint  splashings  and  rustlings  and  crackings. 

A  loud,  trampling  roar  rose  in  the  runway 
and  seemed  to  move  backward  toward  the 
jungle,  diminishing  in  violence. 

"Pigs  running — something  scared  'em," 
said  George. 

"'S-s-s-sh!"  whispered  Ken. 

All  the  sounds  ceased.  The  jungle  seemed 
to  sleep  in  deep  silence. 

Ken's  eyes  were  gmed  to  the  light  patch  of 
sand-bank  where  it  merged  in  the  dark  of  the 
ran  way.  Then  Ken  heard  a  sound — what,  he 
could  not  have  told.  But  it  made  his  heart 
beat  fast. 

There  came  a  few  pattering  thuds,  soft  as 
velvet;  and  a  shadow,  paler  than  the  dark 
background,  moved  out  of  the  runway. 

With  that  a  huge  jaguar  loped  into  the  open. 
He  did  not  look  around.  He  took  a  long,  easy 
bound  down  to  the  water  and  began  to  lap. 

219 


KEN    WARD    IN    THE   JUNGLE 

Either  Pepe  or  George  jerked  so  violently 
as  to  make  the  boat  lurch.  They  seemed  to 
be  stifling. 

"Oh,  Ken,  don't  miss!"  whispered  Hal. 

Ken  had  the  automatic  over  the  log  and  in 
line.  His  teeth  were  shut  tight,  and  he  was 
cold  and  steady.  He  meant  not  to  hurry. 

The  jaguar  was  a  heavy,  squat,  muscular 
figure,  not  graceful  and  beautiful  like  the  one 
Ken  had  crippled.  Suddenly  he  raised  his 
head  and  looked  about.  He  had  caught  a 
scent. 

It  was  then  that  Ken  lowered  the  rifle  till 
the  sight  covered  the  beast — lower  yet  to 
his  huge  paws,  then  still  lower  to  the  edge  of 
the  water.  Ken  meant  to  shoot  low  enough 
this  time.  Holding  the  rifle  there,  and  hold- 
ing it  with  all  his  strength,  he  pressed  the 
trigger  once — twice.  The  two  shots  rang  out 
almost  simultaneously.  Ken  expected  to  see 
this  jaguar  leap,  but  the  beast  crumpled  up 
and  sank  in  his  tracks. 

Then  the  boys  yelled,  and  Ken  echoed 
them.  Pepe  was  wildly  excited,  and  began 
to  fumble  with  the  oars. 

"Wait!     Wait,  I  tell  you!"  ordered  Ken. 

"Oh,  Ken,  you  pegged  him!"  cried  Hal. 
"He  doesn't  move.  Let's  go  ashore.  What 
did  I  tell  you?  It  took  me  to  find  the  tiger." 

220 


WATCHING   A    RUNWAY 

Ken  watched  with  sharp  eyes  and  held  his 
rifle  ready,  but  the  huddled  form  on  the  sand 
never  so  much  as  twitched. 

"I  guess  I  plugged  him,"  said  Ken,  with 
unconscious  pride. 

Pepe  rowed  the  boat  ashore,  and  when  near 
the  sand-bar  he  reached  out  with  an  oar  to 
touch  the  jaguar.  There  was  no  doubt  about 
his  being  dead.  The  boys  leaped  ashore  and 
straightened  out  the  beast.  He  was  huge, 
dirty,  spotted,  bloody,  and  fiercely  savage  even 
in  death.  Ken's  bullets  had  torn  through  the 
chest,  making  fearful  wounds.  Pepe  jabbered, 
and  the  boys  all  talked  at  once.  When  it 
came  to  lifting  the  jaguar  into  the  boat  they 
had  no  slight  task.  The  short,  thick-set  body 
was  very  heavy.  But  at  last  they  loaded 
it  in  the  bow,  and  Pepe  rowed  back  to  the 
island.  It  was  still  a  harder  task  to  get  the 
jaguar  up  the  high  bank.  Pepe  kindled  a  fire 
so  they  would  have  plenty  of  light,  and  then 
they  set  to  work  at  the  skinning. 

What  with  enthusiasm  over  the  stalk,  and 
talk  of  the  success  of  the  trip,  and  compliments 
to  Ken's  shooting,  and  care  of  the  skinning, 
the  boys  were  three  hours  at  the  job.  Ken, 
remembering  Hiram  Bent's  teachings,  skinned 
out  the  great  claws  himself.  They  salted  the 
pelt  and  nailed  it  up  on  the  big  cypress. 


KEN    WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

"You'd  never  have  got  one  but  for  me," 
said  Hal.  ''That's  how  I  pay  you  for  the 
tricks  you've  played  me!" 

"By  George,  Hal,  it's  a  noble  revenge!" 
cried  Ken,  who,  in  the  warmth  and  glow  of 
happiness  of  the  time,  quite  believed  his 
brother. 

Pepe  went  to  bed  first.  George  turned  in 
next.  Ken  took  a  last  look  at  the  great  pelt 
stretched  on  the  cypress,  and  then  he  sought  his 
blankets.  Hal,  however,  remained  up.  Ken 
heard  him  pounding  stakes  in  the  ground. 

"Hal,  what  're  you  doing?" 

"I'm  settin*  my  trot-lines,"  replied  Hal, 
cheerfully. 

"Well,  come  to  bed." 

"Keep  your  shirt  on,  Ken,  old  boy.  I'll 
be  along  presently." 

Ken  fell  asleep.  He  did  not  have  peaceful 
slumbers.  He  had  been  too  excited  to  rest 
well.  He  would  wake  up  out  of  a  night- 
mare, then  go  to  sleep  again.  He  seemed  to 
wake  suddenly  out  of  one  of  these  black  spells, 
and  he  was  conscious  of  pain.  Something 
tugged  at  his  leg. 

"WTiat  the  dickens!"  he  said,  and  raised 
on  his  elbow.  Hal  was  asleep  between  George 
and  Pepe,  who  were  snoring. 

Just  then  Ken  felt  a  violent  jerk.     The 

222 


WATCHING    A    RUNWAY 

blankets  flew  up  at  his  feet,  and  his  left  leg 
went  out  across  his  brother's  body.  There  was 
a  string — a  rope — something  fast  round  his 
ankle,  and  it  was  pulling  hard.  It  hurt. 

"Jiminy!"  shouted  Ken,  reaching  for  his 
foot.  But  before  he  could  reach  it  another 
tug,  more  violent,  pulled  his  leg  straight  out. 
Ken  began  to  slide. 

"What  on  earth?"  yelled  Ken.  "Say! 
Something's  got  me!" 

The  yells  and  Ken's  rude  exertions  aroused 
the  boys.  And  they  were  frightened.  Ken 
got  an  arm  around  Hal  and  the  other  around 
George  and  held  on  for  dear  life.  He  was 
more  frightened  than  they.  Pepe  leaped  up, 
jabbering,  and,  tripping,  he  fell  all  in  a 
heap. 

"Oh!  my  leg!"  howled  Ken.  "It's  being 
pulled  off.  Say,  I  can't  be  dreaming!" 

Most  assuredly  Ken  was  wide  awake.  The 
moonlight  showed  his  bare  leg  sticking  out 
and  round  his  ankle  a  heavy  trot-line.  It  was 
stretched  tight.  It  ran  down  over  the  bank. 
And  out  there  in  the  river  a  tremendous  fish 
or  a  crocodile  was  surging  about,  making  the 
water  roar. 

Pepe  was  trying  to  loosen  the  line  or  break 
it.  George,  who  was  always  stupid  when  first 
aroused,  probably  imagined  he  was  being 

223 


mauled  by  a  jaguar,  for  he  loudly  bellowed. 
Ken  had  a  strangle-hold  on  Hal. 

"Oh!  Oh!  Oh-h-h!"  bawled  Ken.  Not 
only  was  he  scared  out  of  a  year's  growth; 
he  was  in  terrible  pain.  Then  his  cries  grew 
unintelligible.  He  was  being  dragged  out  of 
the  tent.  Still  he  clung  desperately  to  the 
howling  George  and  the  righting  Hal. 

All  at  once  something  snapped.  The  ten- 
sion relaxed.  Ken  fell  back  upon  Hal. 

"Git  off  me,  will  you?"  shouted  Hal. 
"Are  you  c-c-cr-azy?" 

But  Hal's  voice  had  not  the  usual  note 
when  he  was  angry  or  impatient.  He 
was  laughing  so  he  could  not  speak  natu- 
rally. 

"Uh-huh!"  said  Ken,  and  sat  up.  "I  guess 
here  was  where  I  got  it.  Is  my  leg  broken? 
What  came  off?" 

Pepe  was  staggering  about  on  the  bank, 
going  through  strange  motions.  He  had  the 
line  in  his  hands,  and  at  the  other  end  was 
a  monster  of  some  kind  threshing  about  in 
the  water.  It  was  moonlight  and  Ken  could 
see  plainly.  Around  the  ankle  that  felt 
broken  was  a  twisted  loop  of  trot-line.  Hal 
had  baited  a  hook  and  slipped  the  end  of 
the  trot-line  over  Ken's  foot.  During  the 
night  the  crocodile  or  an  enormous  fish  had 

224 


WATCHING   A    RUNWAY 

taken  the  bait.  Then  Ken  had  nearly  been 
hauled  off  the  island. 

Pepe  was  doing  battle  with  the  hooked 
thing,  whatever  it  was,  and  Ken  was  about 
to  go  to  his  assistance  when  again  the  line 
broke. 

1 '  Great !  Hal,  you  have  a  nice  disposition, ' ' 
exclaimed  Ken.  "You  have  a  wonderful 
affection  for  your  brother.  You  care  a  lot 
about  his  legs  or  his  life.  Idiot!  Can't  you 
play  a  safe  trick?  If  I  hadn't  grabbed  you 
and  George,  I'd  been  pulled  into  the  river. 
Eaten  up,  maybe!  And  my  ankle  is  sprained. 
It  won't  be  any  good  for  a  week.  You  are  a 
bright  boy!" 

And  in  spite  of  his  laughter  Hal  began  to 
look  ashamed. 


XIX 

ADVENTURES   WITH   CROCODILES 

HTHE  rest  of  that  night  Ken  had  more  dreams ; 
1  and  they  were  not  pleasant.     He  awoke 
from  one  in  a  cold  fright. 

It  must  have  been  late,  for  the  moon  was 
low.  His  ankle  pained  and  throbbed,  and  to 
that  he  attributed  his  nightmare.  He  was 
falling  asleep  again  when  the  clink  of  tin 
pans  made  him  sit  up  with  a  start.  Some 
animal  was  prowling  about  camp.  He  peered 
into  the  moonlit  shadows,  but  could  make 
out  no  unfamiliar  object.  Still  he  was  not 
satisfied;  so  he  awoke  Pepe. 

Certainly  it  was  not  Ken's  intention  to  let 
Pepe  get  out  ahead;  nevertheless  he  was  lame 
and  slow,  and  before  he  started  Pepe  rolled 
out  of  the  tent. 

"Santa  Maria!"  shrieked  Pepe. 

Ken  fumbled  under  his  pillow  for  a  gun. 
Hal  raised  up  so  quickly  that  he  bumped  Ken's 
head,  making  him  see  a  million  stars.  George 
rolled  over,  nearly  knocking  down  the  tent. 

226 


ADVENTURES  WITH  CROCODILES 

From  outside  came  a  sliddery,  rustling 
noise,  then  another  yell  that  was  deadened 
by  a  sounding  splash.  Ken  leaped  out  with 
his  gun,  George  at  his  elbow.  Pepe  stood 
just  back  of  the  tent,  his  arms  upraised,  and 
he  appeared  stunned.  The  water  near  the 
bank  was  boiling  and  bubbling;  waves  were 
dashing  on  the  shore  and  ripples  spreading 
in  a  circle. 

George  shouted  in  Spanish. 

"Crocodile!"  cried  Ken. 

"Si,  si,  Senor,"  replied  Pepe.  Then  he  said 
that  when  he  stepped  out  of  the  tent  the  croc- 
odile was  right  in  camp,  not  ten  feet  from 
where  the  boys  lay.  Pepe  also  said  that 
these  brutes  were  man-eaters,  and  that  he  had 
better  watch  for  the  rest  of  the  night.  Ken 
thought  him,  like  all  the  natives,  inclined 
to  exaggerate;  however,  he  made  no  objection 
to  Pepe's  holding  watch  over  the  crocodile. 

"What'd  I  tell  you?"  growled  George. 
"Why  didn't  you  let  me  shoot  him?  Let's 
go  back  to  bed." 

In  the  morning  when  Ken  got  up  he  viewed 
his  body  with  great  curiosity.  The  ticks 
and  the  cigarette  burns  had  left  him  a  beau- 
tifully tattoed  specimen  of  aborigine.  His 
body,  especially  his  arms,  bore  hundreds  of 
little  reddish  scars — bites  and  burns  to- 

227 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

gether.  There  was  not,  however,  any  itching 
or  irritation,  for  which  he  made  sure  he  had 
to  thank  Pepe's  skill  and  the  canya. 

George  did  not  get  up  when  Ken  called 
him.  Thinking  his  sleep  might  have  been 
broken,  Ken  let  him  alone  a  while  longer,  but 
when  breakfast  was  smoking  he  gave  him  a 
prod.  George  rolled  over,  looking  haggard 
and  glum. 

"I'm  sick,"  he  said. 

Ken's  cheerfulness  left  him,  for  he  knew 
what  sickness  or  injury  did  to  a  camping  trip. 
George  complained  of  aching  bones,  head- 
ache and  cramps,  and  showed  a  tongue  with  a 
yellow  coating.  Ken  said  he  had  eaten  too 
much  fresh  meat,  but  Pepe,  after  looking 
George  over,  called  it  a  name  that  sounded 
like  calentura. 

"What's  that?"  Ken  inquired. 

"Tropic  fever,"  replied  George.  "I've  had 
it  before." 

For  a  while  he  was  a  very  sick  boy.  Ken 
had  a  little  medicine  -  case,  and  from  it  he 
administered  what  he  thought  was  best,  and 
George  grew  easier  presently.  Then  Ken  sat 
down  to  deliberate  on  the  situation. 

Whatever  way  he  viewed  it,  he  always  came 
back  to  the  same  thing — they  must  get  out 
of  the  jungle;  and  as  they  could  not  go  back, 

228 


ADVENTURES  WITH  CROCODILES 

they  must  go  on  down  the  river.  That  was  a 
bad  enough  proposition  without  being  ham- 
pered by  a  sick  boy.  It  was  then  Ken  had  a 
subtle  change  of  feeling;  a  shade  of  gloom 
seemed  to  pervade  his  spirit. 

By  nine  o'clock  they  were  packed,  and, 
turning  into  the  shady  channel,  soon  were  out 
in  the  sunlight  saying  good-by  to  Cypress 
Island.  At  the  moment  Ken  did  not  feel 
sorry  to  go,  yet  he  knew  that  feeling  would 
come  by  and  by,  and  that  Cypress  Island 
would  take  its  place  in  his  memory  as  one 
more  haunting,  calling  wild  place. 

They  turned  a  curve  to  run  under  a  rocky 
bluff  from  which  came  a  muffled  roar  of  rapids. 
A  long,  projecting  point  of  rock  extended  across 
the  river,  allowing  the  water  to  rush  through 
only  at  a  narrow  mill-race  channel  close  to 
the  shore.  It  was  an  obstacle  to  get  around. 
There  was  no  possibility  of  lifting  the  boat 
over  the  bridge  of  rock,  and  the  alternative 
was  shooting  the  channel.  Ken  got  out 
upon  the  rocks,  only  to  find  that  drifting  the 
boat  round  the  sharp  point  was  out  of  the 
question,  owing  to  a  dangerously  swift  cur- 
rent. Ken  tried  the  depth  of  the  water — 
about  four  feet.  Then  he  dragged  the  boat 
back  a  little  distance  and  stepped  into  the 
river. 

229 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

"Look!  Look!"  cried  Pepe,  pointing  to  the 
bank. 

About  ten  yards  away  was  a  bare  shelf  of 
mud  glistening  with  water  and  showing  the 
deep  tracks  of  a  crocodile.  It  was  a  slide, 
and  manifestly  had  just  been  vacated.  The 
crocodile-tracks  resembled  the  imprints  of  a 
giant's  hand. 

"Come  out!"  yelled  George,  and  Pepe 
jabbered  to  his  saints. 

"We've  got  to  go  down  this  river,"  Ken 
replied,  and  he  kept  on  wading  till  he  got  the 
boat  in  the  current.  He  was  frightened,  of 
course,  but  he  kept  on  despite  that.  The 
boat  lurched  into  the  channel,  stern  first,  and 
he  leaped  up  on  the  bow.  It  shot  down  with 
the  speed  of  a  toboggan,  and  the  boat  whirled 
before  he  could  scramble  to  the  oars.  What 
was  worse,  an  overhanging  tree  with  dead 
snags  left  scarce  room  to  pass  beneath.  Ken 
ducked  to  prevent  being  swept  overboard, 
and  one  of  the  snags  that  brushed  and  scraped 
him  ran  under  his  belt  and  lifted  him  into  the 
air.  He  grasped  at  the  first  thing  he  could 
lay  hands  on,  which  happened  to  be  a  box, 
but  he  could  not  hold  to  it  because  the  boat 
threatened  to  go  on,  leaving  him  kicking  in 
midair  and  holding  up  a  box  of  potatoes.  Ken 
clutched  a  gunwale,  only  to  see  the  water 


ADVENTURES  WITH  CROCODILES 

swell  dangerously  over  the  edge.  In  angry 
helplessness  he  loosened  his  hold.  Then  the 
snag  broke,  just  in  the  nick  of  time,  for  in 
a  second  more  the  boat  would  have  been 
swept  away.  Ken  fell  across  the  bow,  held 
on,  and  soon  drifted  from  under  the  threshing 
branches,  and  seized  the  oars. 

Pepe  and  George  and  Hal  walked  round  the 
ledge  and,  even  when  they  reached  Ken, 
had  not  stopped  laughing. 

"Boys,  it  wasn't  funny,"  declared  Ken, 
soberly. 

"  I  said  it  was  coming  to  us,"  replied  George. 

There  were  rapids  below,  and  Ken  went  at 
them  with  stern  eyes  and  set  lips.  It  was  the 
look  of  men  who  face  obstacles  in  getting  out 
of  the  wilderness.  More  than  one  high  wave 
circled  spitefully  round  Pepe's  broad  shoulders. 

They  came  to  a  fall  where  the  river  dropped 
a  few  feet  straight  down.  Ken  sent  the  boys 
below.  Hal  and  George  made  a  detour.  But 
Pepe  jumped  off  the  ledge  into  shallow  water. 

"Ah-h!"  yelled  Pepe. 

Ken  was  becoming  accustomed  to  Pepe's 
wild  yell,  but  there  was  a  note  in  this  which 
sent  a  shiver  over  him.  Before  looking,  Ken 
snatched  his  rifle  from  the  boat. 

Pepe  appeared  to  be  sailing  out  into  the 
pool.  But  his  feet  were  not  moving. 

16  231 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

Ken  had  only  an  instant,  but  in  that  he  saw 
under  Pepe  a  long,  yellow,  swimming  shape, 
leaving  a  wake  in  the  water.  Pepe  had 
jumped  upon  the  back  of  a  crocodile.  He 
seemed  paralyzed,  or  else  he  was  wisely 
trusting  himself  there  rather  than  in  the  water. 
Ken  was  too  shocked  to  offer  advice.  Indeed, 
he  would  not  have  known  how  to  meet  this 
situation. 

Suddenly  Pepe  leaped  for  a  dry  stone,  and 
the  energy  of  his  leap  carried  him  into  the 
river  beyond.  Like  a  flash  he  was  out  again, 
spouting  water. 

Ken  turned  loose  the  automatic  on  the  croc- 
odile and  shot  a  magazine  of  shells.  The 
crocodile  made  a  tremendous  surge,  churning 
up  a  slimy  foam,  then  vanished  in  a  pool. 

"Guess  this  '11  be  crocodile  day,"  said 
Ken,  changing  the  clip  in  his  rifle.  "I'll  bet 
I  made  a  hole  in  that  one.  Boys,  look  out 
below." 

Ken  shoved  the  boat  over  the  ledge  in  line 
with  Pepe,  and  it  floated  to  him,  while  Ken 
picked  his  way  round  the  rocky  shore.  The 
boys  piled  aboard  again.  The  day  began  to 
get  hot.  Ken  cautioned  the  boys  to  avoid 
wading,  if  possible,  and  to  be  extremely  care- 
ful where  they  stepped.  Pepe  pointed  now 
and  then  to  huge  bubbles  breaking  on  the 

232 


ADVENTURES  WITH  CROCODILES 

surface  of  the  water  and  said  they  were  made 
by  crocodiles. 

From  then  on  Ken's  hands  were  full.  He 
struck  swift  water,  where  rapid  after  rapid, 
fall  on  fall,  took  the  boat  downhill  at  a  rate  to 
afford  him  satisfaction.  The  current  had  a 
five  or  six  mile  speed,  and,  as  Ken  had  no  port- 
ages to  make  and  the  corrugated  rapids  of  big 
waves  gave  him  speed,  he  made  by  far  the  best 
time  of  the  voyage. 

The  hot  hours  passed — cool  for  the  boys 
because  they  were  always  wet.  The  sun  sank 
behind  a  hill.  The  wind  ceased  to  whip  the 
streamers  of  moss.  At  last,  in  a  gathering 
twilight,  Ken  halted  at  a  wide,  flat  rock  to 
make  camp. 

"Forty  miles  to-day  if  we  made  an  inch!" 
exclaimed  Ken. 

The  boys  said  more. 

They  built  a  fire,  cooked  supper,  and  then, 
weary  and  silent,  Hal  and  George  and  Pepe 
rolled  into  their  blankets.  But  Ken  doggedly 
worked  an  hour  at  his  map  and  notes.  That 
hard  forty  miles  meant  a  long  way  toward 
the  success  of  his  trip. 

Next  morning  the  mists  had  not  lifted  from 
the  river  when  they  shoved  off,  determined  to 
beat  the  record  of  yesterday.  Difficulties  beset 
them  from  the  start — the  highest  waterfall  of 

233 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

the  trip,  a  leak  in  the  boat,  deep,  short  rapids, 
narrows  with  choppy  waves,  and  a  whirlpool 
where  they  turned  round  and  round,  unable 
to  row  out.  Nor  did  they  get  free  till  Pepe 
lassoed  a  snag  and  pulled  them  out. 

About  noon  they  came  to  another  narrow 
chute  brawling  down  into  a  deep,  foamy  pool. 
Again  Ken  sent  the  boys  around,  and  he  backed 
the  boat  into  the  chute;  and  just  as  the 
current  caught  it  he  leaped  aboard.  He  was 
either  tired  or  careless,  for  he  drifted  too  close 
to  a  half-submerged  rock,  and,  try  as  he 
might,  at  the  last  moment  he  could  not  avoid 
a  collision. 

As  the  stern  went  hard  on  the  rock  Ken 
expected  to  break  something,  but  was  sur- 
prised at  the  soft  thud  with  which  he  struck. 
It  flashed  into  his  mind  that  the  rock  was  moss- 
covered. 

Quick  as  the  thought  there  came  a  rumble 
under  the  boat,  the  stern  heaved  up,  there 
was  a  great  sheet-like  splash,  and  then  a  blow 
that  splintered  the  gunwale.  Then  the  boat 
shunted  off,  affording  the  astounded  Ken  a 
good  view  of  a  very  angry  crocodile.  He  had 
been  sleeping  on  the  rock. 

The  boys  were  yelling  and  crowding  down 
to  the  shore  where  Ken  was  drifting  in. 
Pepe  waded  in  to  catch  the  boat. 

234 


ADVENTURES  WITH  CROCODILES 

"What  was  it  hit  you,  Ken?"  asked  Hal. 

"Mucho  malo,"  cried  Pepe. 

"The  boat's  half  full  of  water — the  gun- 
wale's all  split!"  ejaculated  George. 

"Only  an  accident  of  river  travel,"  replied 
Ken,  with  mock  nonchalance.  "Say,  Gar- 
rapato,  when,  about  when  is  it  coming  to  me?" 

"Well,  if  he  didn't  get  slammed  by  a  croc- 
odile!" continued  George. 

They  unloaded,  turned  out  the  water, 
broke  up  a  box  to  use  for  repairs,  and  mended 
the  damaged  gunwale — work  that  lost  more 
than  a  good  hour.  Once  again  under  way, 
Ken  made  some  interesting  observations.  The 
river  ceased  to  stand  on  end  in  places;  croco- 
diles slipped  off  every  muddy  promontory, 
and  wide  trails  ridged  the  steep  clay-banks. 

"Cattle-trails,  Pepe  says,"  said  George. 
"Wild  cattle  roam  all  through  the  jungle  along 
the  Panuco." 

It  was  a  well-known  fact  that  the  ran- 
cheros  of  Tamaulipas  State  had  no  idea  how 
many  cattle  they  owned.  Ken  was  so  eager 
to  see  if  Pepe  had  been  correct  that  he  went 
ashore,  to  find  the  trails  were,  indeed,  those  of 
cattle. 

"Then,  Pepe,  we  must  be  somewhere  near 
the  Panuco  River,"  he  said. 

"Quien  sabe?"  rejoined  he,  quietly. 
235 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

When  they  rounded  the  curve  they  came 
upon  a  herd  of  cattle  that  clattered  up  the 
bank,  raising  a  cloud  of  dust. 

"Wilder  than  deer!"  Ken  exclaimed. 

From  that  point  conditions  along  the  river 
changed.  The  banks  were  no  longer  green ;  the 
beautiful  cypresses  gave  place  to  other  trees, 
as  huge,  as  moss-wound,  but  more  rugged 
and  of  gaunt  outline;  the  flowers  and  vines 
and  shady  nooks  disappeared.  Everywhere 
wide-horned  steers  and  cows  plunged  up  the 
banks.  Everywhere  buzzards  rose  from  grue- 
some feasts.  The  shore  was  lined  with  dead 
cattle,  and  the  stench  of  putrefying  flesh  was 
almost  unbearable.  They  passed  cattle  mired 
in  the  mud,  being  slowly  tortured  to  death 
by  flies  and  hunger;  they  passed  cattle  that 
had  slipped  off  steep  banks  and  could  not  get 
back  and  were  bellowing  dismally;  and  also 
strangely  acting  cattle  that  Pepe  said  had 
gone  crazy  from  ticks  in  their  ears.  Ken 
would  have  put  these  miserable  beasts  out  of 
their  misery  had  not  George  restrained  him 
with  a  few  words  about  Mexican  law. 

A  sense  of  sickness  came  to  Ken,  and  though 
he  drove  the  feeling  from  him,  it  continually 
returned.  George  and  Hal  lay  flat  on  the 
canvas,  shaded  with  a  couple  of  palm  leaves; 
Pepe  rowed  on  and  on,  growing  more  and  more 

236 


ADVENTURES  WITH  CROCODILES 

serious  and  quiet.     His  quick,  responsive  smile 
was  wanting  now. 

By  way  of  diversion,  and  also  in  the  hope 
of  securing  a  specimen,  Ken  began  to  shoot 
at  the  crocodiles.  George  came  out  of  his 
lethargy  and  took  up  his  rifle.  He  would 
have  had  to  be  ill  indeed,  to  forswear  any 
possible  shooting;  and,  now  that  Ken  had 
removed  the  bar,  he  forgot  he  had  fever. 
Every  hundred  yards  or  so  they  would  come 
upon  a  crocodile  measuring  somewhere  from 
about  six  feet  upward,  and  occasionally  they 
would  see  a  great  yellow  one,  as  large  as  a 
log.  Seldom  did  they  get  within  good  range 
of  these  huge  fellows,  and  shooting  from  a 
moving  boat  was  not  easy.  The  smaller 
ones,  however,  allowed  the  boat  to  approach 
quite  close.  George  bounced  many  a  .32 
bullet  off  the  bank,  but  he  never  hit  a  croco- 
dile. Ken  allowed  him  to  have  the  shots  for 
the  fun  of  it,  and,  besides,  he  was  watching 
for  a  big  one. 

"George,  that  rifle  of  yours  is  leaded.  It 
doesn't  shoot  where  you  aim." 

When  they  got  unusually  close  to  a  small 
crocodile  George  verified  Ken's  statement  by 
missing  his  game  some  yards.  He  promptly 
threw  the  worn-out  rifle  overboard,  an  act 
that  caused  Pepe  much  concern. 

237 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

Whereupon  Ken  proceeded  to  try  his  luck. 
Instructing  Pepe  to  row  about  in  the  middle 
of  the  stream,  he  kept  eye  on  one  shore  while 
George  watched  the  other.  He  shot  half  a 
dozen  small  crocodiles,  but  they  slipped  off 
the  bank  before  Pepe  could  get  ashore.  This 
did  not  appear  to  be  the  fault  of  the  rifle,  for 
some  of  the  reptiles  were  shot  almost  in  two 
pieces.  But  Ken  had  yet  to  learn  more  about 
the  tenacity  of  life  of  these  water-brutes. 
Several  held  still  long  enough  for  Ken  to  shoot 
them  through,  then  with  a  plunge  they  went 
into  the  water,  sinking  at  once  in  a  bloody 
foam.  He  knew  he  had  shot  them  through, 
for  he  saw  large  holes  in  the  mud-banks 
lined  with  bits  of  bloody  skin  and  bone. 

' '  There's  one, ' '  said  George,  pointing.  ' '  Let's 
get  closer,  so  we  can  grab  him.  He's  got 
a  good  piece  to  go  before  he  reaches  the 
water." 

Pepe  rowed  slowly  along,  guiding  the  boat 
a  little  nearer  the  shore.  At  forty  feet  the 
crocodile  raised  up,  standing  on  short  legs, 
so  that  all  but  his  tail  was  free  of  the  ground. 
He  opened  his  huge  jaws  either  in  astonish- 
ment or  to  intimidate  them,  and  then  Ken 
shot  him  straight  down  the  throat.  He 
flopped  convulsively  and  started  to  slide  and 
roll.  When  he  reached  the  water  he  tun>ed 

238 


ADVENTURES  WITH  CROCODILES 

over  on  his  back,  with  his  feet  sticking  up, 
resembling  a  huge  frog.  Pepe  rowed  hard  to 
the  shore,  just  as  the  crocodile  with  one  last 
convulsion  rolled  off  into  deeper  water.  Ken 
reached  over,  grasped  his  foot,  and  was  draw- 
ing it  up  when  a  sight  of  cold,  glassy  eyes 
and  open-fanged  jaws  made  him  let  go. 
Then  the  crocodile  sank  in  water  where  Pepe 
could  not  touch  bottom  with  an  oar. 

"Let's  get  one  if  it  takes  a  week,"  declared 
George.  The  lad  might  be  sick,  but  there  was 
nothing  wrong  with  his  spirit.  ' '  Look  there !' ' 
he  exclaimed.  "Oh,  I  guess  it's  a  log.  Too 
big!" 

They  had  been  unable  to  tell  the  difference 
between  a  crocodile  and  a  log  of  driftwood 
until  it  was  too  late.  In  this  instance  a 
long,  dirty-gray  object  lay  upon  a  low  bank. 
Despite  its  immense  size,  which  certainly 
made  the  chances  in.  favor  of  its  being  a  log, 
Ken  determined  this  time  to  be  fooled  on  the 
right  side.  He  had  seen  a  dozen  logs — as  he 
thought — suddenly  become  animated  and  slip 
into  the  river. 

"Hold  steady,  Pepe.  I'll  take  a  crack  at 
that  just  for  luck." 

The  distance  was  about  a  hundred  yards, 
a  fine  range  for  the  little  rifle.  Resting  on 
his  knee,  he  sighted  low,  under  the  gray  ob- 

239 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

ject,  and  pulled  the  trigger  twice.  There  were 
two  spats  so  close  together  as  to '  be  barely 
distinguishable.  The  log  of  driftwood  leaped 
into  life. 

"Whoop!"  shouted  Hal. 

"It's  a  crocodile!"  yelled  George.  "You 
hit — you  hit!  Will  you  listen  to  that?" 

"Row  hard,  Pepe— pull!" 

He  bent  to  the  oars,  and  the  boat  flew  shore- 
ward. 

The  huge  crocodile,  opening  yard-long  jaws, 
snapped  them  shut  with  loud  cracks.  Then 
he  beat  the  bank  with  his  tail.  It  was  as 
limber  as  a  willow,  but  he  seemed  unable  to 
move  his  central  parts,  his  thick  bulk,  where 
Ken  had  sent  the  two  mushroom  bullets. 
Whack!  Whack!  Whack!  The  sodden  blows 
jarred  pieces  from  the  clay-bank  above  him. 
Each  blow  was  powerful  enough  to  have  staved 
in  the  planking  of  a  ship.  All  at  once  he 
lunged  upward  and,  falling  over  backward, 
slid  down  his  runway  into  a  few  inches  of 
water,  where  he  stuck. 

"Go  in  above  him,  Pepe,"  Ken  shouted. 
"Here —  Heavens!  What  a  monster!" 

Deliberately,  at  scarce  twenty  feet,  Ken 
shot  the  remaining  four  shells  into  the  croco- 
dile. The  bullets  tore  through  his  horny 
hide,  and  blood  and  muddy  water  spouted  up. 

240 


ADVENTURES  WITH  CROCODILES 

George  and  Pepe  and  Hal  yelled,  and  Ken 
kept  time  with  them.  The  terrible  lashing 
tail  swung  back  and  forth  almost  too  swiftly 
for  the  eye  to  catch.  A  deluge  of  mud  and 
water  descended  upon  the  boys,  bespattering, 
blinking  them  and  weighing  down  the  boat. 
They  jumped  out  upon  the  bank  to  escape  it. 
They  ran  to  and  fro  in  aimless  excitement. 
Ken  still  clutched  the  rifle,  but  he  had  no 
shells  for  it.  George  was  absurd  enough  to 
fling  a  stone  into  the  blood-tinged  cloud  of 
muddy  froth  and  spray  that  hid  the  thresh- 
ing leviathan.  Presently  the  commotion  sub- 
sided enough  for  them  to  see  the  great  croco- 
dile lying  half  on  his  back,  with  belly  all  torn 
and  bloody  and  huge  claw-like  hands  paw- 
ing the  air.  He  was  edging,  slipping  off  into 
deeper  water. 

"He'll  get  away — he'll  get  away!"  cried 
Hal.  "What  '11  we  do?" 

Ken  racked  his  brains. 

"Pepe,  get  your  lasso — rope  him — rope 
him!  Hurry!  he's  slipping!"  yelled  George. 

Pepe  snatched  up  his  lariat,  and,  without 
waiting  to  coil  it,  cast  the  loop.  He  caught 
one  of  the  flippers  and  hauled  tight  on  it  just  as 
the  crocodile  slipped  out  of  sight  off  the  muddy 
ledge.  The  others  ran  to  the  boat,  and, 
grasping  hold  of  the  lasso  with  Pepe,  squared 

241 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

away  and  began  to  pull.  Plain  it  was  that 
the  crocodile  was  not  coming  up  so  easily. 
They  could  not  budge  him. 

"Hang  on,  boys!"  Ken  shouted.  "It's  a 
tug-of-war." 

The  lasso  was  suddenly  jerked  out  with  a 
kind  of  twang.  Crash!  went  Pepe  and  Hal 
into  the  bottom  of  the  boat.  Ken  went 
sprawling  into  the  mud.  and  George,  who  had 
the  last  hold,  went  to  his  knees,  but  valiantly 
clung  to  the  slipping  rope.  Bounding  up, 
Ken  grasped  it  from  him  and  wound  it  round 
the  sharp  nose  of  the  bowsprit. 

"Get  in — hustle!"  he  called,  falling  aboard. 
"You're  always  saying  it's  coming  to  us. 
Here's  where!" 

George  had  hardly  got  into  the  boat  when 
the  crocodile  pulled  it  off  shore,  and  away  it 
went,  sailing  down-stream. 

"Whoop!  All  aboard  for  Panuco!"  yelled 
Hal. 

"Now,  Pepe,  you  don't  need  to  row  any 
more — we've  a  water-horse,"  Ken  added. 

But  Pepe  did  not  enter  into  the  spirit  of 
the  occasion.  He  kept  calling  on  the  saints 
and  crying,  "  Mucho  malo."  George  and  Ken 
and  Hal,  however,  were  hilarious.  They  had 
not  yet  had  experience  enough  to  know  croco- 
diles. 

242 


ICVIFE  IN  HAND,  KEN  LEAPED  OVER  HIS  HEAD  AND  SLASHED  THE  TAUT 

LASSO 


ADVENTURES  WITH  CROCODILES 

Faster  and  faster  they  went.  The  water 
began  to  surge  away  from  the  bow  and  leave 
a  gurgling  wake  behind  the  stern.  Soon  the 
boat  reached  the  middle  of  the  river  where  the 
water  was  deepest,  and  the  lasso  went  almost 
straight  down. 

Ken  felt  the  stern  of  the  boat  gradually 
lifted,  and  then,  in  alarm,  he  saw  the  front 
end  sinking  in  the  water.  The  crocodile  was 
hauling  the  bow  under. 

"Pepe — your  machete — cut  the  lasso!"  he 
ordered,  sharply.  George  had  to  repeat  the 
order. 

Wildly  Pepe  searched  under  the  seat  and 
along  the  gunwales.  He  could  not  find  the 
machete. 

"Cut   the  rope!"   Ken   thundered.     "Use 
a   knife,   the   ax — anything — only   cut   it— 
and  cut  it  quick!" 

Pepe  could  find  nothing.  Knife  in  hand, 
Ken  leaped  over  his  head,  sprawled  headlong 
over  the  trunk,  and  slashed  the  taut  lasso 
just  as  the  water  began  to  roar  into  the 
boat.  The  bow  bobbed  up  as  a  cork  that  had 
been  under.  But  the  boat  had  shipped  six 
inches  of  water. 

"  Row  ashore,  Pepe.  Steady,  there.  Trim 
the  boat,  George." 

They  beached   at  a  hard  clay-bank  and 
243 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

rested  a  little  before  unloading  to  turn  out  the 
water. 

"Grande!"  observed  Pepe. 

"Yes;  he  was  big,"  assented  George. 

"I  wonder  what's  going  to  happen  to  us 
next,"  added  Hal. 

Ken  Ward  looked  at  these  companions  of 
his  and  he  laughed  outright.  "Well,  if  you 
all  don't  take  the  cake  for  nerve!" 


XX 

TREED    BY   WILD   PIGS 

DEPE'S  long  years  of  mozo  work,  rowing 
*  for  tarpon  fishermen,  now  stood  the  boys 
in  good  stead.  All  the  hot  hours  of  the  day 
he  bent  steadily  to  the  oars.  Occasionally 
they  came  to  rifts,  bu'  these  were  not  difficult 
to  pass,  being  mere  swift,  shallow  channels 
over  sandy  bottom.  The  rocks  and  the  rapids 
were  things  of  the  past. 

George  lay  in  a  kind  of  stupor,  and  Hal 
lolled  in  his  seat.  Ken,  however,  kept  alert, 
and  as  the  afternoon  wore  on  began  to  be 
annoyed  at  the  scarcity  of  camp -sites. 

The  muddy  margins  of  the  river,  the  steep 
banks,  and  the  tick-infested  forests  offered  few 
places  where  it  was  possible  to  rest,  to  say 
nothing  of  sleep.  Every  turn  in  the  widening 
river  gave  Ken  hope,  which  resulted  in  dis- 
appointment. He  found  consolation,  how- 
ever, in  the  fact  that  every  turn  and  every 
hour  put  him  so  much  farther  on  the  way. 

About  five  o'clock  Ken  had  unexpected 
245 


KEN    WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

good  luck  in  shape  of  a  small  sand-bar  cut 
off  from  the  mainland,  and  therefore  free  of 
cattle- tracks.  It  was  clean  and  dry,  with  a 
pile  of  driftwood  at  one  end. 

"Tumble  out,  boys,"  called  Ken,  as  Pepe 
beached  the  boat.  "We'll  pitch  camp  here." 

Neither  Hal  nor  George  showed  any  alacrity. 
Ken  watched  his  brother;  he  feared  to  see 
some  of  the  symptoms  of  George's  sickness. 
Both  lads,  however,  seemed  cheerful,  though 
too  tired  to  be  of  much  use  in  the  pitching  of 
camp. 

Ken  could  not  recover  his  former  good 
spirits.  There  was  a  sense  of  foreboding  in 
his  mind  that  all  was  not  well,  that  he  must 
hurry,  hurry.  And  although  George  appeared 
to  be  holding  his  own,  Hal  healthy  enough, 
and  Pepe's  brooding  quiet  at  least  no  worse, 
Ken  could  not  rid  himself  of  gloom.  If  he 
had  answered  the  question  that  knocked  at 
his  mind  he  would  have  admitted  a  certainty 
of  disaster.  So  he  kept  active,  and  when 
there  were  no  more  tasks  for  that  day  he 
worked  on  his  note-book,  and  then  watched 
the  flight  of  wild  fowl. 

The  farther  down  the  river  the  boys 
traveled  the  more  numerous  were  the  herons 
and  cranes  and  ducks.  But  they  saw  no  more 
of  the  beautiful  pato  real,  as  Pepe  called  them, 

246 


TREED    BY    WILD    PIGS 

or  the  little  russet-colored  ducks,  or  the  dismal- 
voiced  bitterns.  On  the  other  hand,  wild 
geese  were  common,  and  there  were  flocks 
and  flocks  of  teal  and  canvasbacks. 

Pepe,  as  usual,  cooked  duck.  And  he  had 
to  eat  it.  George  had  lost  his  appetite  al- 
together. Hal  had  lost  his  taste  for  meat, 
at  least.  And  Ken  made  a  frugal  meal  of 
rice. 

"Boys,"  he  said,  "the  less  you  eat  from  now 
on  the  better  for  you." 

It  took  resolution  to  drink  the  cocoa,  for 
Ken  could  not  shut  out  remembrance  of  the 
green  water  and  the  shore-line  of  dead  and 
decaying  cattle.  Still,  he  was  parched  with 
thirst;  he  had  to  drink.  That  night  he  slept 
ten  hours  without  turning  over.  Next  mom- 
ing  he  had  to  shake  Pepe  to  rouse  him. 

Ken  took  turns  at  the  oars  with  Pepe. 
It  was  not  only  that  he  fancied  Pepe  was 
weakening  and  in  need  of  an  occasional  rest, 
but  the  fact  that  he  wanted  to  be  occupied, 
and  especially  to  keep  in  good  condition. 
They  made  thirty  miles  by  four  o'clock,  and 
most  of  it  against  a  breeze.  Not  in  the  whole 
distance  did  they  pass  half  a  dozen  places 
fit  for  a  camp.  Toward  evening  the  river 
narrowed  again,  resembling  somewhat  the 
Santa  Rosa  of  earlier  acquaintance.  The 

17  247 


KEN   WARD    IN    THE   JUNGLE 

magnificent  dark  forests  crowded  high  on 
the  banks,  always  screened  and  curtained  by 
gray  moss,  as  if  to  keep  their  secrets. 

The  sun  was  just  tipping  with  gold  the 
mossy  crests  of  a  grove  of  giant  ceibas,  when 
the  boys  rounded  a  bend  to  come  upon  the 
first  ledge  of  rocks  for  two  days.  A  low, 
grassy  promontory  invited  the  eyes  search- 
ing for  camping-ground.  This  spot  appeared 
ideal;  it  certainly  was  beautiful.  The  ledge 
jutted  into  the  river  almost  to  the  opposite 
shore,  forcing  the  water  to  rush  through  a 
rocky  trough  into  a  great  foam-spotted  pool 
below. 

They  could  not  pitch  the  tent,  since  the 
stony  ground  would  not  admit  stakes,  so 
they  laid  the  canvas  flat.  Pepe  w.ent  up 
the  bank  with  his  machete  in  search  of  fire- 
wood. To  Ken's  utmost  delight  he  found  a 
little  spring  of  sweet  water  trickling  from  the 
ledge,  and  by  digging  a  hole  was  enabled  to 
get  a  drink,  the  first  one  in  more  than  a  week. 

A  little  later,  as  he  was  spreading  the 
blankets,  George  called  his  attention  to  shouts 
up  in  the  woods. 

' '  Pepe's  treed  something, ' '  Ken  said.  '  *  Take 
your  gun  and  hunt  him  up." 

Ken  went  on  making  a  bed  and  busying 
himself  about  camp,  with  little  heed  to 

248 


TREED    BY   WILD    PIGS 

George's  departure.  Presently,  however,  he 
was  startled  by  unmistakable  sounds  of  alarm. 
George  and  Pepe  were  yelling  in  unison,  and, 
from  the  sound,  appeared  to  be  quite  a  dis- 
tance away. 

"What  the  deuce!"  Ken  ejaculated,  snatch- 
ing up  his  rifle.  He  snapped  a  clip  in  the 
magazine  and  dropped  several  loaded  clips 
and  a  box  of  extra  shells  into  his  coat  pocket. 
After  his  adventure  with  the  jaguar  he  decided 
never  again  to  find  himself  short  of  ammuni- 
tion. Running  up  the  sloping  bank,  he  en- 
tered the  forest,  shouting  for  his  companions. 
Answering  cries  came  from  in  front  and  a  little 
to  the  left.  He  could  not  make  out  what  was 
said. 

Save  for  drooping  moss  the  forest  was 
comparatively  open,  and  at  a  hundred  paces 
from  the  river-bank  were  glades  covered  with 
thickets  and  long  grass  and  short  palm-trees. 
The  ground  sloped  upward  quite  perceptibly. 

"Hey,  boys,  where  are  you?"  called  Ken. 

Pepe's  shrill  yells  mingled  with  George's 
shouts.  At  first  their  meaning  was  unin- 
telligible, but  after  calling  twice  Ken  under- 
stood. 

"Javelin!  Go  back!  Javelin!  We're  treed! 
Wild  pigs !  Santa  Maria !  Run  for  your  life !' ' 

This  was  certainly  enlightening  and  rather 
249 


KEN   WARD    IN    THE   JUNGLE 

embarrassing.  Ken  remembered  the  other 
time  the  boys  had  made  him  run,  and  he  grew 
hot  with  anger. 

"I'll  be  blessed  if  I'll  run!"  he  said,  in  the 
pride  of  conceit  and  wounded  vanity.  Where- 
upon he  began  to  climb  the  slope,  stopping 
every  few  steps  to  listen  and  look.  Ken 
wondered  what  had  made  Pepe  go  so  far  for 
fire-wood;  still,  there  was  nothing  but  green 
wood  all  about.  Walking  round  a  clump  of 
seared  and  yellow  palms  that  rustled  in  the 
breeze,  Ken  suddenly  espied  George's  white 
shirt.  He  was  in  a  scrubby  sapling  not 
fifteen  feet  from  the  ground.  Then  Ken 
espied  Pepe,  perched  in  the  forks  of  a  ceiba, 
high  above  the  thickets  and  low  shrubbery. 
Ken  was  scarcely  more  than  a  dozen  rods  from 
them  down  the  gradual  slope.  Both  saw  him 
at  once. 

"Run,  you  Indian!  Run!"  bawled  George, 
waving  his  hands. 

George  implored  Ken  to  fly  to  save  his 
precious  life. 

' '  What  for?  you  fools !  I  don't  see  anything 
to  run  from,"  Ken  shouted  back.  His  temper 
had  soured  a  little  during  the  last  few  days. 

"You'd  better  run,  or  you'll  have  to  climb," 
replied  George.  "Wild  pigs — a  thousand  of 
'em!" 

250 


TREED    BY   WILD    PIGS 

"Where?" 

"Right  tinder  us.  There!  Oh,  if  they 
see  you!  Listen  to  this."  He  broke  off  a 
branch,  trimmed  it  of  leaves,  and  flung  it 
down.  Ken  heard  a  low,  trampling  roar  of 
many  hard  little  feet,  brushings  in  the  thicket, 
and  cracking  of  twigs.  As  close  as  he  was, 
however,  he  could  not  see  a  moving  object. 
The  dead  grass  and  brush  were  several  feet 
high,  up  to  his  waist  in  spots,  and,  though  he 
changed  position  several  times,  no  javelin 
did  he  see. 

"You  want  to  look  out.  Say,  man,  these 
are  wild  pigs — boars,  I  tell  you!  They'll 
kill  you!"  bellowed  George. 

"Are  you  going  to  stay  up  there  all  night?" 
Ken  asked,  sarcastically. 

"We'll  stay  till  they  go  away." 

"All  right,  I'll  scare  them  away,"  Ken  re- 
plied, and,  suiting  action  to  word,  he  worked 
the  automatic  as  fast  as  it  would  shoot, 
aiming  into  the  thicket  under  George. 

Of  all  the  foolish  things  a  nettled  hunter 
ever  did  that  was  the  worst.  A  roar  answered 
the  echoes  of  the  rifle,  and  the  roar  rose  from 
every  side  of  the  trees  the  victims  were  in. 
Nervously  Ken  clamped  a  fresh  clip  of  shells 
into  the  rifle.  Clouds  of  dust  arose,  and 
strange  little  squeals  and  grunts  seemed  to 

251 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

come  from  every  quarter.  Then  the  grass 
and  bushes  were  suddenly  torn  apart  by  swift 
gray  forms  with  glittering  eyes.  They  were 
everywhere. 

"Run!  Run!"  shrieked  George,  high  above 
the  tumult. 

For  a  thrilling  instant  Ken  stood  his  ground 
and  fired  at  the  bobbing  gray  backs.  But 
every  break  made  in  the  ranks  by  the  power- 
ful shells  filled  in  a  flash.  Before  that  vicious 
charge  he  wavered,  then  ran  as  if  pursued  by 
demons. 

The  way  was  downhill.  Ken  tripped,  fell, 
rolled  over  and  over,  then,  still  clutching 
the  rifle,  rose  with  a  bound  and  fled.  The 
javelin  had  gained.  They  were  at  his  heels. 
He  ran  like  a  deer.  Then,  seeing  a  low  branch, 
he  leaped  for  it,  grasped  it  with  one  hand,  and, 
crooking  an  elbow  round  it,  swung  with  the 
old  giant  swing. 

Before  Ken  knew  how  it  had  happened  he 
was  astride  a  dangerously  swaying  branch  di- 
rectly over  a  troop  of  brownish-gray,  sharp- 
snouted,  fiendish-eyed  little  peccaries. 

Some  were  young  and  sleek,  others  were 
old  and  rough ;  some  had  little  yellow  teeth  or 
tusks,  and  all  pointed  their  sharp  noses  up- 
ward, as  if  expecting  him  to  fall  into  their 
very  mouths.  Feeling  safe,  once  more  Ken 

252 


TREED    BY   WILD    PIGS 

loaded  the  rifle  and  began  to  kill  the  biggest, 
most  vicious  javelin.  When  he  had  killed 
twelve  in  twelve  shots,  he  saw  that  shooting  a 
few  would  be  of  no  avail.  There  were  hun- 
dreds, it  seemed,  and  he  had  scarcely  fifty 
shells  left.  Moreover,  the  rifle-barrel  grew  so 
hot  that  it  burnt  his  hands.  Hearing  George's 
yell,  he  replied,  somewhat  to  his  disgust : 

"  I'm  all  right,  George — only  treed.  How  're 
you?" 

"Pigs  all  gone — they  chased  you — Pepe 
thinks  we  can  risk  running." 

"Don't  take  any  chances,"  Ken  yelled,  in 
answer. 

"Hi!  Hi!  What's  wrong  with  you  gaza- 
bos?" came  Hal's  yell  from  down  the  slope. 
.  "Go  back  to  the  boat,"  shouted  Ken. 

"What  for?" 

"We're  all  treed  by  javelin — wild  pigs." 

"I've  got  to  see  that,"  was  Hal's  reply. 

Ken  called  a  sharp,  angry  order  for  Hal 
to  keep  away.  But  Hal  did  not  obey.  Ken 
heard  him  coming,  and  presently  saw  him 
enter  one  of  the  little  glades.  He  had  Ken's 
shotgun,  and  was  peering  cautiously  about. 

"Ken,  where  are  you?" 

"Here!  Didn't  I  tell  you  to  keep  away? 
The  pigs  heard  you — some  of  them  are  edging 
out  there.  Look  out!  Run,  kid,  run!" 

253 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

A  troop  of  javelin  flashed  into  the  glade. 
Hal  saw  them  and  raised  the  shotgun. 

Boom!    He  shot  both  barrels. 

The  shot  tore  through  the  brush  all  around 
Ken,  but  fortunately  beneath  him.  Neither 
the  noise  nor  the  lead  stopped  the  pugnacious 
little  peccaries. 

Hal  dropped  Ken's  hammerless  and  fled. 

"Run  faster!"  yelled  George,  who  evidently 
enjoyed  Hal's  plight.  "They'll  get  you! 
Run  hard!" 

The  lad  was  running  close  to  the  record 
when  he  disappeared. 

In  trying  to  find  a  more  comfortable  posture, 
so  he  could  apply  himself  to  an  interesting 
study  of  his  captors,  Ken  made  the  startling 
discovery  that  the  branch  which  upheld  him 
was  splitting  from  the  tree-trunk.  His  heart 
began  to  pound  in  his  breast;  then  it  went 
up  into  his  throat.  Every  move  he  made 
— for  he  had  started  to  edge  toward  the 
tree — widened  the  little  white  split. 

"Boys,  my  branch  is  breaking!"  he  called, 
piercingly. 

"Can't  you  get  another?"  returned  George. 

"No;  I  daren't  move!  Hurry,  boys!  If 
you  don't  scare  these  brutes  off  I'm  a  goner!" 

Ken's  eyes  were  riveted  upon  the  gap 
where  the  branch  was  slowly  separating  from 

254 


TREED    BY   WILD    PIGS 

the  tree-trunk.  He  glanced  about  to  see  if 
he  could  not  leap  to  another  branch.  There 
was  nothing  near  that  would  hold  him.  In 
desperation  he  resolved  to  drop  the  rifle, 
cautiously  get  to  his  feet  upon  the  branch,  and 
with  one  spring  try  to  reach  the  tree.  When 
about  to  act  upon  this  last  chance  he  heard 
Pepe's  shrill  yell  and  a  crashing  in  the  brush. 
Then  followed  the  unmistakable  roar  and 
crackling  of  fire.  Pepe  had  fired  the  brush — 
no,  he  was  making  his  way  toward  Ken,  armed 
with  a  huge  torch. 

"Pepe,  you'll  fire  the  jungle!"  cried  Ken, 
forgetting  what  was  at  stake  and  that  Pepe 
could  not  understand  much  English.  But 
Ken  had  been  in  one  forest-fire  and  remem- 
bered it  with  horror. 

The  javelin  stirred  uneasily,  and  ran  around 
under  Ken,  tumbling  over  one  another. 

When  Pepe  burst  through  the  brush,  hold- 
ing before  him  long-stemmed  palm  leaves 
flaring  in  hissing  flames,  the  whole  pack  of 
pigs  bowled  away  into  the  forest  at  breakneck 
speed. 

Ken  leaped  down,  and  the  branch  came  with 
him.  George  came  running  up,  his  face  white, 
his  eyes  big.  Behind  him  rose  a  roar  that  Ken 
thought  might  be  another  drove  of  pigs  till 
he  saw  smoke  and  flame. 

255 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE    JUNGLE 

"Boys,  the  jungle's  on  fire.  Run  for  the 
river!" 

In  their  hurry  they  miscalculated  the  loca- 
tion of  camp  and  dashed  out  of  the  jungle 
over  a  steep  bank,  and  they  all  had  a  tumble. 
It  was  necessary  to  wade  to  reach  the  rocky 
ledge. 

Ken  shook  hands  with  Pepe. 

"George,  tell  him  that  was  a  nervy  thing 
to  do.  He  saved  my  life,  I  do  believe." 

"You  fellows  did  a  lot  of  hollering,"  said 
Hal,  from  his  perch  in  the  boat. 

"Say,  young  man,  you've  got  to  go  back 
after  my  gun.  Why  didn't  you  do  what 
I  told  you?  Foolish,  to  run  into  danger  that 
way!"  declared  Ken,  severely. 

"You  don't  suppose  I  was  going  to  over- 
look a  chance  to  see  Ken  Ward  treed,  do  you?" 

"Well,  you  saw  him,  and  that  was  no  joke. 
But  I  wish  Pepe  could  have  scared  those  pigs 
off  without  firing  the  jungle." 

"Pepe  says  it  '11  give  the  ticks  a  good  roast- 
ing," said  George. 

"We'll  have  roast  pig,  anyway,"  added 
Ken. 

He  kept  watching  the  jungle  back  of  the 
camp  as  if  he  expected  it  to  blow  up  like 
a  powder-mine.  But  this  Tamaulipas  jungle 
was  not  Penetier  Forest.  A  cloud  of  smoke 

256 


TREED    BY   WILD    PIGS 

rolled  up ;  there  was  a  frequent  roaring  of  dry 
palms;  but  the  green  growths  did  not  burn. 
It  was  not  much  of  a  forest-fire,  and  Ken 
concluded  that  it  would  soon  burn  out. 

So  he  took  advantage  of  the  waning  day- 
light to  spread  out  his  map  and  plot  in  the 
day's  travel.  This  time  Hal  watched  him 
with  a  quiet  attention  that  was  both  natter- 
ing and  stimulating;  and  at  the  conclusion 
of  the  task  he  said: 

''Well,  Ken,  we're  having  sport,  but  we're 
doing  something  more  —  something  worth 
while." 


XXI 

THE  LEAPING  TARPON 

JUST  before  dark,  when  the  boys  were  at 
*J  supper,  a  swarm  of  black  mosquitoes 
swooped  down  upon  camp. 

Pepe  could  not  have  shown  more  fear  at 
angry  snakes,  and  he  began  to  pile  green 
wood  and  leaves  on  the  fire  to  make  a  heavy 
smoke. 

These  mosquitoes  were  very  large,  black- 
bodied,  with  white-barred  wings.  Their  bite 
was  as  painful  as  the  sting  of  a  bee.  After 
threshing  about  until  tired  out  the  boys  went 
to  bed.  But  it  was  only  to  get  up  again,  for 
the  mosquitoes  could  bite  through  two  thick- 
nesses of  blanket. 

For  a  wonder  every  one  was  quiet.  Even 
George  did  not  grumble.  The  only  thing  to 
do  was  to  sit  or  stand  in  the  smoke  of  the  camp- 
fire.  The  boys  wore  their  gloves  and  wrapped 
blankets  round  heads  and  shoulders.  They 
crouched  over  the  fire  until  tired  of  that 
position,  then  stood  up  till  they  could  stand 

258 


THE   LEAPING   TARPON 

no  longer.  It  was  a  wretched,  sleepless  night 
with  the  bloodthirsty  mosquitoes  humming 
about  like  a  swarm  of  bees.  They  did  not 
go  away  until  dawn. 

"That's  what  I  get  for  losing  the  mosquito- 
netting,"  said  Ken,  wearily. 

Breakfast  was  not  a  cheerful  meal,  despite 
the  fact  that  the  boys  all  tried  to  brace  up. 

George's  condition  showed  Ken  the  neces- 
sity for  renewed  efforts  to  get  out  of  the  jungle. 
Pepe  appeared  heavy  and  slow,  and,  what  was 
more  alarming,  he  had  lost  his  appetite.  Hal 
was  cross,  but  seemed  to  keep  well.  It  was 
hard  enough  for  Ken  to  persuade  George  and 
Pepe  to  take  the  bitter  doses  of  quinine,  and 
Hal  positively  refused. 

"It  makes  me  sick,  I  tell  you,"  said  Hal, 
impatiently. 

"But  Hal,  you  ought  to  be  guided  by  my 
judgment  now,"  replied  Ken,  gently. 

"I  don't  care.  I've  had  enough  of  bitter 
pills." 

"I  ask  you — as  a  favor?"  persisted  Ken, 
quietly. 

"No!" 

"Well,  then,  I'll  have  to  make  you  take 
them." 

"Wha-at?"  roared  Hal. 

"  If  necessary ,  I'll  throw  you  down  and  pry 
259 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

open  your  mouth  and  get  Pepe  to  stuff  these 
pills  down  your  throat.  There!"  went  on 
Ken,  and  now  he  did  not  recognize  his  own 
voice. 

Hal  looked  quickly  at  his  brother,  and  was 
amazed  and  all  at  once  shaken. 

"Why,  Ken—"  he  faltered. 

"I  ought  to  have  made  you  take  them 
before,"  interrupted  Ken.  "But  I've  been 
too  easy.  Now,  Hal,  listen — and  you,  too, 
George.  I've  made  a  bad  mess  of  this  trip. 
I  got  you  into  this  jungle,  and  I  ought  to  have 
taken  better  care  of  you,  whether  you  would 
or  not.  George  has  fever.  Pepe  is  getting 
it.  I'm  afraid  you  won't  escape.  You  all 
would  drink  unboiled  water." 

"Ken,  that's  all  right,  but  you  can  get 
fever  from  the  bites  of  the  ticks,"  said  George. 

"I  dare  say.  But  just  the  same  you  could 
have  been  careful  about  the  water.  Not  only 
that — look  how  careless  we  have  been.  Think 
of  the  things  that  have  happened!  We've 
gotten  almost  wild  on  this  trip.  We  don't 
realize.  But  wait  till  we  get  home.  Then 
we'll  hardly  be  able  to  believe  we  ever  had 
these  adventures.  But  our  foolishness,  our 
carelessness,  must  stop  right  here.  If  we  can't 
profit  by  our  lucky  escapes  yesterday — from 
that  lassoed  crocodile  and  the  wild  pigs — we 

260 


THE    LEAPING   TARPON 

are  simply  no  good.  I  love  fun  and* sport. 
But  there's  a  limit.  Hal,  remember  what  old 
Hiram  told  you  about  being  foolhardily  brave. 
I  think  we  have  been  wonderfully  lucky. 
Now  let's  deserve  our  good  luck.  Let's  not 
prove  what  that  Tampico  hotel-man  said. 
Let's  show  we  are  not  just  wild-goose-chasing 
boys.  I  put  it  to  you  straight.  I  think  the 
real  test  is  yet  to  come,  and  I  want  you  to 
help  me.  No  more  tricks.  No  more  drink- 
ing unboiled  water.  No  more  shooting  except 
in  self-defense.  We  must  not  eat  any  more 
meat.  No  more  careless  wandering  up  the 
banks.  No  chances.  See?  And  fight  the 
fever.  Don't  give  up.  Then  when  we  get 
out  of  this  awful  jungle  we  can  look  back  at 
our  adventures — and,  better,  we  can  be  sure 
we've  learned  a  lot.  We  shall  have  accom- 
plished something,  and  that's  learning.  Now, 
how  about  it?  Will  you  help  me?" 

"You  can  just  bet  your  life,"  replied  George, 
and  he  held  out  his  hand. 

"Ken,  I'm  with  you,"  was  Hal's  quiet 
promise ;  and  Ken  knew  from  the  way  the  lad 
spoke  that  he  was  in  dead  earnest.  When  it 
came  to  the  last  ditch  Hal  Ward  was  as  true 
as  steel.  He  took  the  raw,  bitter  quinine  Ken 
offered  and  swallowed  it  without  a  grimace. 

' '  Good !"  exclaimed  Ken.  ' '  Now,  boys,  let's 
261 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE    JUNGLE 

pack.  Hal,  you  let  your  menagerie  go. 
There's  no  use  keeping  your  pets  any  longer. 
George,  you  make  yourself  a  bed  on  the  trunk, 
and  fix  a  palm-leaf  sun-shelter.  Then  lie 
down." 

When  the  boat  had  been  packed  and  all  was 
in  readiness  for  the  start,  George  was  sound 
asleep.  They  shoved  off  into  the  current. 
Pepe  and  Ken  took  turns  at  the  oars,  making 
five  miles  an  hour. 

As  on  the  day  before,  they  glided  under  the 
shadows  of  the  great  moss-twined  cypresses, 
along  the  muddy  banks  where  crocodiles 
basked  in  the  sun  and  gaunt  cattle  came  down 
to  drink.  Once  the  boat  turned  a  bushy  point 
to  startle  a  large  flock  of  wild  turkeys,  per- 
haps thirty-five  in  number.  They  had  been 
resting  in  the  cool  sand  along  the  river.  Some 
ran  up  the  bank,  some  half-dozen  flew  right 
over  the  boat,  and  most  of  them  squatted  down 
as  if  to  evade  detection.  Thereafter  turkeys 
and  ducks  and  geese  became  so  common  as  to 
be  monotonous. 

About  one  o'clock  Ken  sighted  a  thatched 
bamboo  and  palm-leaf  hut  on  the  bank. 

"Oh,  boys,  look!  look!"  cried  Ken,  joyfully. 

Hal  was  as  pleased  as  Ken,  and  George 
roused  out  of  his  slumber.  Pepe  grinned  and 
nodded  his  head. 

262 


THE    LEAPING   TARPON 

Some  naked  little  children  ran  like  quail. 
A  disheveled  black  head  peeped  out  of  a 
door,  then  swiftly  vanished. 

"Indians,"  said  George. 

"I  don't  care,"  replied  Ken,  "  they're  human 
beings — people.  We're  getting  somewhere." 

From  there  on  the  little  bamboo  huts  were 
frequently  sighted.  And  soon  Ken  saw  a  large 
one  situated  upon  a  high  bluff.  Ken  was  won- 
dering if  these  natives  would  be  hospitable. 

Upon  rounding  the  next  bend  the  boys 
came  unexpectedly  upon  a  connecting  river. 
It  was  twice  as  wide  as  the  Santa  Rosa,  and 
quite  swift. 

"Tamaulipas,"  said  Pepe. 

"Hooray!  boys,  this  is  the  source  of  the 
Panuco,  sure  as  you're  born,"  cried  Ken.  "I 
told  you  we  were  getting  somewhere." 

He  was  overcome  with  the  discovery.  This 
meant  success. 

"Savalo!  Savalo!"  exclaimed  Pepe,  point- 
ing. 

;<  Tarpon!  Tarpon!  What  do  you  think 
of  that?  'Way  up  here!  We  must  be  a  long 
distance  from  tide-water,"  said  George. 

Ken  looked  around  over  the  broad  pool 
below  the  junction  of  the  two  rivers.  And 
here  and  there  he  saw  swirls,  and  big  splashes, 
and  then  the  silver  sides  of  rolling  tarpon. 

18  263 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

"Boys,  seeing  we've  packed  that  can  of 
preserved  mullet  all  the  way,  and  those 
thundering  heavy  tackles,  let's  try  for  tar- 
pon," suggested  Ken. 

It  was  wonderful  to  see  how  the  boys  re- 
sponded. Pepe  was  no  longer  slow  and 
heavy.  George  forgot  he  was  sick.  Hal, 
who  loved  to  fish  better  than  to  hunt,  was  as 
enthusiastic  as  on  the  first  day. 

"Ken,  let  me  boss  this  job,"  said  George, 
as  he  began  to  rig  the  tackles.  "Pepe  will 
row;  you  and  Hal  sit  back  here  and  troll. 
I'll  make  myself  useful.  Open  the  can. 
See,  I  hook  the  mullet  just  back  of  the  head, 
letting  the  bar  bcome  out  free.  There !  Now 
run  out  about  forty  feet  of  line.  Steady  the 
butt  of  the  rod  under  your  leg.  Put  your  left 
hand  above  the  reel.  Hold  the  handle  of  the 
reel  in  your  right,  and  hold  it  hard.  The 
drag  is  in  the  handle.  Now  when  a  tarpon 
takes  the  bait,  jerk  with  all  your  might. 
Their  mouths  are  like  iron,  and  it's  hard  to  get 
a  hook  to  stick." 

Pepe  rowed  at  a  smooth,  even  stroke  and 
made  for  the  great  curve  of  the  pool  where 
tarpon  were  breaking  water. 

"If  they're  on  the  feed,  we'll  have  more 
sport  than  we've  had  yet,"  said  George. 

Ken  was  fascinated,  and  saw  that  Hal  was 
264 


THE    LEAPING   TARPON 

going  to  have  the  best  time  of  the  trip.  Also 
Ken  was  very  curious  to  have  a  tarpon  strike. 
He  had  no  idea  what  it  would  be  like.  Pres- 
ently, when  the  boat  glided  among  the  rolling 
fish  and  there  was  prospect  of  one  striking 
at  any  moment,  Ken  could  not  subdue  a 
mounting  excitement. 

"Steady  now — be  ready,"  warned  George. 

Suddenly  Hal's  line  straightened.  The  lad 
yelled  and  jerked  at  the  same  instant.  There 
came  a  roar  of  splitting  waters,  and  a  beau- 
tiful silver  fish,  longer  than  Hal  himself,  shot 
up  into  the  air.  The  tarpon  shook  himself 
and  dropped  back  into  the  water  with  a  crash. 

Hal  was  speechless.  He  wound  in  his  line 
to  find  the  bait  gone. 

"Threw  the  hook,"  said  George,  as  he 
reached  into  the  can  for  another  bait.  "He 
wasn't  so  big.  You'll  get  used  to  losing  'em. 
There!  try  again." 

Ken  had  felt  several  gentle  tugs  at  his  line, 
as  if  tarpon  were  rolling  across  it.  And  in- 
deed he  saw  several  fish  swim  right  over  where 
his  line  disappeared  in  the  water.  There  were 
splashes  all  around  the  boat,  some  gentle 
swishes  and  others  hard,  cutting  rushes. 
Then  his  line  straightened  with  a  heavy 
jerk.  He  forgot  to  try  to  hook  the  fish;  in- 
deed, he  had  no  time.  The  tarpon  came  half 

265 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

out  of  the  water/wagged  his  head,  and  plumped 
back.  Ken  had  not  hooked  the  fish,  nor  had 
the  fish  got  the  bait.  So  Ken  again  let  out  his 
line. 

The  next  thing  which  happened  was  that 
the  boys  both  had  strikes  at  the  same  instant. 
Hal  stood  up,  and  as  his  tarpon  leaped  it 
pulled  him  forward,  and  he  fell  into  the  stern- 
seat.  His  reel-handle  rattled  on  the  gunwale. 
The  line  hissed.  Ken  leaned  back  and  jerked. 
His  fish  did  not  break  water,  but  he  was  won- 
derfully active  under  the  surface.  Pepe  was 
jabbering.  George  was  yelling.  Hal's  fish 
was  tearing  the  water  to  shreds.  He  crossed 
Ken's  fish;  the  lines  fouled,  and  then  slacked. 
Ken  began  to  wind  in.  Hal  rose  to  do  like- 
wise. 

"Gee!"  he  whispered,  with  round  eyes. 

Both  lines  had  been  broken.  George  made 
light  of  this  incident,  and  tied  on  two  more 
leaders  and  hooks  and  baited  afresh. 

"The  fish  are  on  the  feed,  boys.  It's  a 
cinch  you'll  each  catch  one.  Better  troll  one 
at  a  time,  unless  you  can  stand  for  crossed 
lines." 

But  Ken  and  Hal  were  too  eager  to  catch  a 
tarpon  to  troll  one  at  a  time,  so  once  more 
they  let  their  lines  out.  A  tarpon  took  Hal's 
bait  right  under  the  stern  of  the  boat.  Hal 

266 


THE    LEAPING   TARPON 

struck  with  all  his  might.  This  fish  came  up 
with  a  tremendous  splash,  drenching  the  boys. 
His  great,  gleaming  silver  sides  glistened  in 
the  sun.  He  curved  his  body  and  straightened 
out  with  a  snap  like  the  breaking  of  a  board, 
and  he  threw  the  hook  whistling  into  the  air. 

Before  Hal  had  baited  up,  Ken  got  another 
strike.  This  fish  made  five  leaps,  one  after 
the  other,  and  upon  the  last  threw  the  hook 
like  a  bullet.  As  he  plunged  down,  a  beau- 
tiful rainbow  appeared  in  the  misty  spray. 

"Hal,  do  you  see  that  rainbow?"  cried  Ken, 
quickly.  "There's  a  sight  for  a  fisherman!" 

This  time  in  turn,  before  Ken  started  to 
troll,  Hal  hooked  another  tarpon.  This  one 
was  not  so  large,  but  he  was  active.  His 
first  rush  was  a  long  surge  on  the  surface. 
He  sent  the  spray  in  two  streaks  like  a  motor- 
boat.  Then  he  sounded. 

"Hang  on,  Hal!"  yelled  George  and  Ken 
in  unison. 

Hal  was  bent  almost  double  and  his  head 
was  bobbing  under  the  strain.  He  could 
not  hold  the  drag.  The  line  was  whizzing 
out. 

"You  got  that  one  hooked,"  shouted 
George.  "Let  go  the  reel — drop  the  handle. 
Let  him  run." 

He  complied,  and  then  his  fish  began  a 
267 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

marvelous  exhibition  of  lofty  tumbling.  He 
seemed  never  to  stay  down  at  all.  Now  he 
shot  up,  mouth  wide,  gills  spread,  eyes  wild, 
and  he  shook  himself  like  a  wet  dog.  Then 
he  dropped  back,  and  before  the  boys  had 
time  to  think  where  he  might  be  he  came 
up  several  rods  to  the  right  and  cracked  his 
gills  like  pistol-shots.  He  skittered  on  his 
tail  and  stood  on  his  head  and  dropped  flat 
with  a  heavy  smack.  Then  he  stayed  under 
and  began  to  tug. 

''Hang  on,  now,"  cried  George.  "Wind 
in.  Hold  him  tight.  Don't  give  him  an 
inch  unless  he  jumps." 

This  was  heartbreaking  work  for  Hal.  He 
toiled  to  keep  the  line  in.  He  grew  red  in  the 
face.  He  dripped  with  sweat.  He  panted  for 
breath.  But  he  hung  on. 

Ken  saw  how  skilfully  Pepe  managed  the 
boat.  The  mozo  seemed  to  know  just  which 
way  the  fish  headed,  and  always  kept  the  boat 
straight.  Sometimes  he  rowed  back  and  lent 
his  help  to  Hal.  But  this  appeared  to  anger 
the  tarpon,  for  the  line  told  he  was  coming 
to  the  surface.  Then,  as  Pepe  ceased  to  let 
him  feel  the  weight  of  the  boat,  the  tarpon 
sank  again.  So  the  battle  went  on  round  and 
round  the  great  pool.  After  an  hour  of  it 
Hal  looked  ready  to  drop. 

268 


THE   LEAPING   TARPON 

"Land  him  alone  if  you  can,"  said  Ken. 
"He's  tiring,  Hal." 

"I'll— land  him— or— or  bust!"  panted  Hal. 

"Look  out,  now!"  warned  George  again. 
"He's  coming  up.  See  the  line.  Be  ready 
to  trim  the  boat  if  he  drops  aboard.  Wow!" 

The  tarpon  slipped  smoothly  out  of  the 
water  and  shot  right  over  the  bow  of  the  boat. 
Quick-witted  George  flung  out  his  hand  and 
threw  Hal's  rod  round  in  time  to  save  the  line 
from  catching.  The  fish  went  down,  came 
up  wagging  his  head,  and  then  fell  with  sul- 
len splash. 

"He's  done,"  yelled  George.  "Now,  Hal, 
hold  him  for  all  you're  worth.  Not  an  inch 
of  line!" 

Pepe  headed  the  boat  for  a  sandy  beach; 
and  Hal,  looking  as  if  about  to  have  a  stroke 
of  apoplexy,  clung  desperately  to  the  bending 
rod.  The  tarpon  rolled  and  lashed  his  tail, 
but  his  power  was  mostly  gone.  Gradually  he 
ceased  to  roll,  until  by  the  time  Pepe  reached 
shore  he  was  sliding  wearily  through  the  water, 
his  silvery  side  glittering  in  the  light. 

The  boat  grated  on  the  sand.  Pepe  leaped 
out.  Then  he  grasped  Hal's  line,  slipped  his 
hands  down  to  the  long  wire  leader,  and 
with  a  quick,  powerful  pull  slid  the  tarpon 
out  upon  the  beach. 

269 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE    JUNGLE 

"Oh-h!"  gasped  Hal,  with  glistening  eyes. 
"Oh-h!  Ken,  just  look!" 

"I'm  looking,  son,  and  don't  you  forget 
it." 

The  tarpon  lay  inert,  a  beautiful  silver- 
scaled  creature  that  looked  as  if  he  had  just 
come  from  a  bath  of  melted  opals.  The  great 
dark  eyes  were  fixed  and  staring,  the  tail 
moved  feebly,  the  long  dorsal  fin  quivered. 

He  measured  five  feet  six  inches  in  length, 
which  was  one  inch  more  than  Hal's  height. 

"Ken,  the  boys  back  home  will  never  be- 
lieve I  caught  him,"  said  Hal,  in  distress. 

"Take  his  picture  to  prove  it,"  replied 
Ken. 

Hal  photographed  his  catch.  Pepe  took 
out  the  hook,  showing,  as  he  did  so,  the  great 
iron-like  plates  in  the  mouth  of  the  fish. 

"No  wonder  it's  hard  to  hook  them,"  said 
Ken. 

Hal  certainly  wanted  his  beautiful  fish  to 
go  back,  free  and  little  hurt,  to  the  river. 
But  also  he  wanted  him  for  a  specimen.  Hal 
deliberated.  Evidently  he  was  considering  the 
labor  of  skinning  such  a  huge  fish  and  the 
difficulty  of  preserving  and  packing  the  hide. 

"Say,  Hal,  wouldn't  you  like  to  see  me  hook 
one?"  queried  Ken,  patiently. 

That  brought  Hal  to  his  senses. 
270 


THE    LEAPING   TARPON 

"Sure,  Ken,  old  man,  I  want  you  to  catch 
one — a  big  one — bigger  than  mine,"  replied 
Hal,  and  restored  the  fish  to  the  water. 

They  all  watched  the  liberated  tarpon  swim 
wearily  off  and  slip  down  under  the  water. 

"He'll  have  something  to  tell  the  rest, 
won't  he?"  said  George. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  boat  was  again  in  the 
center  of  the  great  pool  among  the  rolling 
tarpon.  Ken  had  a  strike  immediately. 
He  missed.  Then  he  tried  again.  And  in  a 
short  space  of  time  he  saw  five  tarpon  in  the 
air,  one  after  the  other,  and  not  one  did  he 
hook  securely.  He  got  six  leaps  out  of  one, 
however,  and  that  was  almost  as  good  as 
landing  him. 

"There  're  some  whales  here,"  said  George. 

"  Grande  savalo,"  added  Pepe,  and  he  rowed 
over  to  where  a  huge  fish  was  rolling. 

"Oh,  I  don't  want  to  hook  the  biggest  one 
first,"  protested  Ken. 

Pepe  rowed  to  and  fro.  The  boys  were  busy 
trying  to  see  the  rolling  tarpon.  There  would 
be  a  souse  on  one  side,  then  a  splash  on  the 
other,  then  a  thump  behind.  What  with 
trying  to  locate  all  these  fish  and  still  keep  an 
eye  on  Ken's  line  the  boys  almost  dislocated 
their  necks. 

Then,  quick  as  a  flash,  Ken  had  a  strike 
271 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

that  pulled  him  out  of  his  seat  to  his  knees. 
He  could  not  jerk.  His  line  was  like  a  wire. 
It  began  to  rise.  With  all  his  strength  he 
held  on.  The  water  broke  in  a  hollow,  slow 
roar,  and  a  huge  humpbacked  tarpon  seemed 
to  be  climbing  into  the  air.  But  he  did  not 
get  all  the  way  out,  and  he  plunged  back 
with  a  thunderous  crash.  He  made  as  much 
noise  as  if  a  horse  had  fallen  off  a  bridge. 

The  handle  of  the  reel  slipped  out  of  Ken's 
grasp,  and  it  was  well.  The  tarpon  made  a 
long,  wonderful  run  and  showed  on  the  surface 
a  hundred  yards  from  the  boat.  He  was  ir- 
resistibly powerful.  Ken  was  astounded  and 
thrilled  at  his  strength  and  speed.  There, 
far  away  from  the  boat,  the  tarpon  leaped 
magnificently,  clearing  the  water,  and  then 
went  down.  He  did  not  come  up  again. 

"Ken,  he's  a  whale,"  said  George.  "I  be- 
lieve he's  well  hooked.  He  won't  jump  any 
more.  And  you've  got  a  job  on  your  hands." 

"I  want  him  to  jump." 

"The  big  ones  seldom  break  water  after 
the  first  rush  or  so." 

"Ken,  it's  coming  to  you  with  that  fel- 
low," said  Hal.  "My  left  arm  is  paralyzed. 
Honestly,  I  can  pinch  it  and  not  feel  the  pain." 

Pepe  worked  the  boat  closer  and  Ken 
reeled  in  yard  after  yard  of  line.  The  tarpon 

272 


THE    LEAPING   TARPON 

was  headed  down-stream,  and  he  kept  up  a 
steady,  strong  strain. 

"Let  him  tow  the  boat,"  said  George. 
"Hold  the  drag,  Ken.  Let  him  tow  the 
boat." 

"What!"  exclaimed  Ken,  in  amaze. 

"Oh,  he'll  do  it,  all  right." 

And  so  it  proved.  Ken's  tarpon,  once 
headed  with  the  current,  did  not  turn,  and 
he  towed  the  boat. 

"This  is  a  new  way  for  me  to  tire  out  a 
fish,"  said  Ken.  "What  do  you  think  of  it, 
Hal?" 

Hal's  eyes  glistened. 

"This  is  fishing.  Ken,  did  you  see  him 
when  he  came  up?" 

"Not  very  clearly.  I  had  buck-fever.  You 
know  how  a  grouse  looks  when  he  flushes 
right  under  your  feet — a  kind  of  brown  blur. 
Well,  this  was  the  same,  only  silver." 

At  the  end  of  what  Ken  judged  to  be  a 
mile  the  tarpon  was  still  going.  At  the  end 
of  the  second  mile  he  was  tired.  And  three 
miles  down  the  river  from  where  the  fish  was 
hooked  Pepe  beached  the  boat  on  a  sand- 
bar and  hauled  ashore  a  tarpon  six  feet  ten 
inches  long. 

Here  Ken  echoed  Hal's  panting  gasp 
of  wonder  and  exultation.  As  he  sat  down 

273 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

on  the  boat  to  rest  he  had  no  feeling  in 
his  left  arm,  and  little  in  his  right.  His 
knuckles  were  skinned  and  bloody.  No 
game  of  baseball  he  had  ever  pitched  had 
taken  his  strength  like  the  conquest  of  this 
magnificent  fish. 

"Hal,  we'll  have  some  more  of  this  fishing 
when  we  get  to  Tampico,"  said  Ken.  "Why, 
this  beats  hunting.  You  have  the  sport,  and 
you  needn't  kill  anything.  This  tarpon  isn't 
hurt." 

So  Ken  photographed  his  prize  and  measured 
him,  and,  taking  a  last  lingering  glance  at  the 
great  green  back,  the  silver-bronze  sides,  the 
foot -wide  flukes  of  the  tail,  at  the  whole 
quivering  fire-tinted  length,  he  slid  the  tarpon 
back  into  the  river. 


XXII 

STRICKEN   DOWN 

MUCH  as  Ken  would  have  liked  to  go  back 
to  that  pool,  he  did  not  think  of  it  twice. 
And  as  soon  as  the  excitement  had  subsided 
and  the  journey  was  resumed,  George  and  Hal, 
and  Pepe,  too,  settled  down  into  a  silent 
weariness  that  made  Ken  anxious. 

During  the  afternoon  Ken  saw  Pepe  slowly 
droop  lower  and  lower  at  the  oars  till  the  time 
came  when  he  could  scarcely  lift  them  to 
make  a  stroke.  And  when  Ken  relieved  him 
of  them,  Pepe  fell  like  a  log  in  the  boat. 

George  slept.  Hal  seemed  to  be  fighting 
stupor.  Pepe  lay  motionless  on  his  seat.  They 
were  all  going  down  with  the  fever,  that 
Ken  knew,  and  it  took  all  his  courage  to  face 
the  situation.  It  warmed  his  heart  to  see  how 
Hal  was  trying  to  bear  up  under  a  languor 
that  must  have  been  well-nigh  impossible  to 
resist.  At  last  Hal  said: 

"Ken,  let  me  row."  He  would  not  admit 
that  he  was  sick. 

275 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

Ken  thought  it  would  do  Hal  no  harm  to 
work.  But  Ken  did  not  want  to  lose  time. 
So  he  hit  upon  a  plan  that  pleased  him. 
There  was  an  extra  pair  of  oars  in  the  boat. 
Ken  fashioned  rude  pegs  from  a  stick  and 
drove  these  down  into  the  cleat  inside  the 
gunwales.  With  stout  rope  he  tied  the  oars 
to  the  pegs,  which  answered  fairly  well  as 
oarlocks.  Then  they  had  a  double  set  of 
oars  going,  and  made  much  better  time. 

George  woke  and  declared  that  he  must  take 
a  turn  at  the  oars.  So  Ken  let  him  row,  too, 
and  rested  himself.  He  had  a  grim  forebod- 
ing that  he  would  need  all  his  strength. 

The  succeeding  few  hours  before  sunset 
George  and  Hal  more  than  made  up  for  all 
their  delinquencies  of  the  past.  At  first  it  was 
not  very  hard  for  them  to  row;  but  soon  they 
began  to  weary,  then  weaken.  Neither  one, 
however,  would  give  up.  Ken  let  them 
row,  knowing  that  it  was  good  for  them. 
Slower  and  slower  grew  George's  strokes. 
There  were  times  when  he  jerked  up  spas- 
modically and  made  an  effort,  only  to  weaken 
again.  At  last,  with  a  groan  he  dropped  the 
oars,  Ken  had  to  lift  him  back  into  the  bow, 

Hal  was  not  so  sick  as  George,  and  there- 
fore not  so  weak.  He  lasted  longer.  Ken 
had  seen  the  lad  stick  to  many  a  hard  job, 

276 


STRICKEN    DOWN 

but  never  as  he  did  to  this  one.  Hal  was  mak- 
ing good  his  promise.  There  were  times  when 
his  breath  came  in  whistles.  He  would  stop 
and  pant  awhile,  then  row  on.  Ken  pretended 
he  did  not  notice.  But  he  had  never  been 
so  proud  of  his  brother  nor  loved  him  so  well. 

"Ken,  old  man,"  said  Hal,  presently.  "I 
was — wrong — about  the  water.  I  ought  to 
have  obeyed  you.  I — I'm  pretty  sick." 

What  a  confession  for  Hal  Ward! 

Ken  turned  in  time  to  see  Hal  vomit  over 
the  gunwale. 

"It's  pretty  tough,  Hal,"  said  Ken,  as  he 
reached  out  to  hold  his  brother's  head;  "but 
you're  game.  I'm  so  glad  to  see  that." 

Whereupon  Hal  went  back  to  his  oars  and 
stayed  till  he  dropped.  Ken  lifted  him  and 
laid  him  beside  George. 

Ken  rowed  on  with  his  eyes  ever  in  search 
of  a  camping-site.  But  there  was  no  place  to 
camp.  The  muddy  banks  were  too  narrow 
at  the  bottom,  too  marshy  and  filthy.  And 
they  were  too  steep  to  climb  to  the  top. 

The  sun  set.  Twilight  fell.  Darkness  came 
on,  and  still  Ken  rowed  down  the  river.  At 
last  he  decided  to  make  a  night  of  it  at  the 
oars.  He  preferred  to  risk  the  dangers  of  the 
river  at  night  rather  than  spend  miserable 
hours  in  the  mud.  Rousing  the  boys,  he 

277 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

forced  them  to  swallow  a  little  cold  rice  and 
some  more  quinine.  Then  he  covered  them 
with  blankets,  and  had  scarce  completed  the 
task  when  they  were  deep  in  slumber. 

Then  the  strange,  dense  tropical  night 
settled  down  upon  Ken.  The  oars  were  al- 
most noiseless,  and  the  water  gurgled  softly 
from  the  bow.  Overhead  the  expanse  was 
dark  blue,  with  a  few  palpitating  stars.  The 
river  was  shrouded  in  gray  gloom,  and  the 
banks  were  lost  in  black  obscurity.  Great 
fireflies  emphasized  the  darkness.  He  trusted 
a  good  deal  to  luck  in  the  matter  of  going 
right ;  yet  he  kept  his  ear  keen  for  the  sound 
of  quickening  current,  and  turned  every  few 
strokes  to  peer  sharply  into  the  gloom.  He 
seemed  to  have  little  sense  of  peril,  for,  though 
he  hit  submerged  logs  and  stranded  on  bars, 
he  kept  on  unmindful,  and  by  and  by  lost  what 
anxiety  he  had  felt.  The  strange  wildness 
of  the  river  at  night,  the  gray,  veiled  space  into 
which  he  rowed  unheeding  began  to  work 
upon  his  mind. 

That  was  a  night  to  remember — a  night 
of  sounds  and  smells,  of  the  feeling  of  the  cool 
mist,  the  sight  of  long,  dark  forest-line  and 
a  golden  moon  half  hidden  by  clouds.  Prom- 
inent among  these  was  the  trill  of  river  frogs. 
The  trill  of  a  northern  frog  was  music,  but 

278 


STRICKEN   DOWN 

that  of  these  great,  silver-throated  jungle 
frogs  was  more  than  music.  Close  at  hand  one 
would  thrill  Ken  with  mellow,  rich  notes; 
and  then  from  far  would  come  the  answer, 
a  sweet,  high  tenor,  wilder  than  any  other 
wilderness  sound,  long  sustained,  dying  away 
till  he  held  his  breath  to  listen. 

So  the  hours  passed;  and  the  moon  went 
down  into  the  weird  shadows,  and  the  Southern 
Cross  rose  pale  and  wonderful. 

Gradually  the  stars  vanished  in  a  kind  of 
brightening  gray,  and  dawn  was  at  hand. 
Ken  felt  weary  for  sleep,  and  his  arms  and  back 
ached.  Morning  came,  with  its  steely  light 
on  the  river,  the  rolling  and  melting  of  vapors, 
the  flight  of  ducks  and  call  of  birds.  The 
rosy  sun  brought  no  cheer. 

Ken  beached  the  boat  on  a  sand-bar. 
While  he  was  building  a  fire  George  raised 
his  head  and  groaned.  But  neither  Pepe  nor 
Hal  moved.  Ken  cooked  rice  and  boiled 
cocoa,  which  he  choked  down.  He  opened 
a  can  of  fruit  and  found  that  most  welcome. 
Then  he  lifted  George's  head,  shook  him, 
roused  him,  and  held  him,  and  made  him  eat 
and  drink.  Nor  did  he  neglect  to  put  a 
liberal  dose  of  quinine  in  the  food.  Pepe  was 
easily  managed,  but  poor  Hal  was  almost 
unable  to  swallow.  Something  terribly  grim 

19  279 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

mingled  with  a  strong,  passionate  thrill  as 
Ken  looked  at  Hal's  haggard  face.  Then 
Ken  Ward  knew  how  much  he  could  stand, 
what  work  he  could  do  to  get  his  brother  out 
of  the  jungle. 

He  covered  the  boys  again  and  pushed  out 
the  boat.  At  the  moment  he  felt  a  strength 
that  he  had  never  felt  before.  There  was  a 
good,  swift  current  in  the  river,  and  Ken  was 
at  great  pains  to  keep  in  it.  The  channel 
ran  from  one  side  of  the  river  to  the  other. 
Many  times  Ken  stranded  on  sandy  shoals 
and  had  to  stand  up  and  pole  the  boat  into 
deeper  water.  This  was  work  that  required 
all  his  attention.  It  required  more  than 
patience.  But  as  he  rowed  and  poled  and 
drifted  he  studied  the  shallow  ripples  and 
learned  to  avoid  the  places  where  the  boat 
would  not  float. 

There  were  stretches  of  river  where  the 
water  was  comparatively  deep,  and  along 
these  he  rested  and  watched  the  shores  as  he 
drifted  by.  He  saw  no  Indian  huts  that 
morning.  The  jungle  loomed  high  and  dark, 
a  matted  gray  wall.  The  heat  made  the 
river  glare  and  smoke.  Then  where  the  cur- 
rent quickened  he  rowed  steadily  and  easily, 
husbanding  his  strength. 

More  than  all  else,  even  the  ravings  of  Hal 
280 


STRICKEN    DOWN 

in  fever,  the  thing  that  wore  on  Ken  and  made 
him  gloomy  was  the  mourning  of  turtle-doves. 
As  there  had  been  thousands  of  these  beau- 
tiful birds  along  the  Santa  Rosa  River,  so 
there  were  millions  along  the  Panuco.  Trees 
were  blue  with  doves.  There  was  an  in- 
cessant soft,  sad  moaning.  He  fought  his 
nervous,  sensitive  imaginings.  And  for  a 
time  he  would  conquer  the  sense  of  some  sad 
omen  sung  by  the  doves.  Then  the  monot- 
ony, the  endless  sweet  "coo-ooo-ooo,"  seemed 
to  drown  him  in  melancholy  sound.  There  were 
three  distinct  tones — a  moan,  swelling  to  full 
ring,  and  dying  away:  "Coo-ooo-ooo — coo- 
ooo-ooo." 

All  the  afternoon  the  mourning,  haunting 
song  filled  Ken  Ward's  ears.  And  when  the 
sun  set  and '  night  came,  with  relief  to  his 
tortured  ear  but  not  to  mind,  Ken  kept  on 
without  a  stop. 

The  day  had  slipped  behind  Ken  with  the 
miles,  and  now  it  was  again  dark.  It  seemed 
that  he  had  little  sense  of  time.  But  his 
faculties  of  sight  and  hearing  were  singularly 
acute.  Otherwise  his  mind  was  like  the  weird 
gloom  into  which  he  was  drifting. 

Before  the  stars  came  out  the  blackness  was 
as  thick  as  pitch.  He  could  not  see  a  yard 
ahead.  He  backed  the  boat  stern  first 

281 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

down-stream  and  listened  for  the  soft  murmur 
of  ripples  on  shoals.  He  avoided  these  by 
hearing  alone.  Occasionally  a  huge,  dark 
pile  of  driftwood  barred  his  passage,  and  he 
would  have  to  go  round  it.  Snags  loomed  up 
specter-like  in  his  path,  seemingly  to  reach  for 
him  with  long,  gaunt  arms.  Sometimes  he 
drifted  upon  sand-bars,  from  which  he  would 
patiently  pole  the  boat. 

When  the  heavy  dew  began  to  fall  he  put 
on  his  waterproof  coat.  The  night  grew 
chill.  Then  the  stars  shone  out.  This  light- 
ened the  river.  Yet  everywhere  were  shadows. 
Besides,  clouds  of  mist  hung  low,  in  places 
obscuring  the  stars. 

Ken  turned  the  boat  bow  first  down- 
stream and  rowed  with  slow,  even  stroke. 
He  no  longer  felt  tired.  He  seemed  to  have 
the  strength  of  a  giant.  He  fancied  that  with 
one  great  heave  he  could  lift  the  boat  out  of 
the  water  or  break  the  oars.  From  time  to 
time  he  ceased  to  row,  and,  turning  his  head, 
he  looked  and  listened.  The  river  had  numer- 
ous bends,  and  it  was  difficult  for  Ken  to  keep 
in  the  middle  channel.  He  managed  pretty 
well  to  keep  right  by  watching  the  dark 
shore-line  where  it  met  the  deep-blue  sky. 
In  the  bends  the  deepest  water  ran  close  to 
the  shore  of  the  outside  curve.  And  under 

282 


STRICKEN    DOWN 

these  high  banks  and  the  leaning  cypresses 
shadows  were  thicker  and  blacker  than  in  the 
earlier  night.  There  was  mystery  in  them 
that  Ken  felt. 

The  sounds  he  heard  when  he  stopped 
during  these  cautious  resting  intervals  were 
the  splashes  of  fish  breaking  water,  the  low 
hum  of  insects,  and  the  trill  of  frogs.  The 
mourning  of  the  doves  during  daylight  had 
haunted  him,  and  now  he  felt  the  same  sen- 
sation at  this  long-sustained,  exquisitely  sweet 
trill.  It  pierced  him,  racked  him,  and  at  last, 
from  sheer  exhaustion  of  his  sensibilities,  he 
seemed  not  to  hear  it  any  more,  but  to  have 
it  in  his  brain. 

The  moon  rose  behind  the  left-hand  jungle 
wall,  silvered  half  of  the  river  and  the  op- 
posite line  of  cypresses,  then  hid  under 
clouds. 

Suddenly,  near  or  far  away,  down  the  river 
Ken  saw  a  wavering  light.  It  was  too  large 
for  a  firefly,  and  too  steady.  He  took  it 
for  a  Jack-o'-lantern.  And  for  a  while  it 
enhanced  the  unreality,  the  ghostliness  of  the 
river.  But  it  was  the  means  of  bringing 
Ken  out  of  his  dreamy  gloom.  It  made  him 
think.  The  light  was  moving.  It  was  too 
wavering  for  a  Jack-o'-lantern.  It  was  com- 
ing up-stream.  It  grew  larger. 

283 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

Then,  as  suddenly  as  it  had  appeared,  it 
vanished.  Ken  lost  sight  of  it  under  a  deep 
shadow  of  overhanging  shore.  As  he  reached 
a  point  opposite  to  where  it  disappeared  he 
thought  he  heard  a  voice.  But  he  could  not 
be  sure.  He  did  not  trust  his  ears.  The 
incident,  however,  gave  him  a  chill.  What 
a  lonesome  rjde!  He  was  alone  on  that  un- 
known river  with  three  sick  boys  in  the  boat. 
Their  lives  depended  upon  his  care,  his 
strength,  his  skill,  his  sight  and  hearing. 
And  the  realization,  striking  him  afresh, 
steeled  his  arms  again  and  his  spirit. 

The  night  wore  on.  The  moon  disappeared 
entirely.  The  mists  hung  low  like  dim  sheets 
along  the  water.  Ken  was  wringing-wet  with 
dew.  Long  periods  of  rowing  he  broke  with 
short  intervals  of  drifting,  when  he  rested  at 
the  oars. 

Then  drowsiness  attacked  him.  For  hours 
it  seemed  he  fought  it  off.  But  at  length  it 
grew  overpowering.  Only  hard  rowing  would 
keep  him  awake.  And,  as  he  wanted  to  re- 
serve his  strength,  he  did  not  dare  exert  him- 
self violently.  He  could  not  keep  his  eyes 
open.  Time  after  time  he  found  himself 
rowing  when  he  was  half  asleep.  The  boat 
drifted  against  a  log  and  stopped.  Ken 
drooped  over  his  oars  and  slept,  and  yet  he 

284 


STRICKEN    DOWN 

seemed  not  altogether  to  lose  consciousness. 
He  roused  again  to  row  on. 

It  occurred  to  him  presently  that  he  might 
let  the  boat  drift  and  take  naps  between 
whiles.  When  he  drifted  against  a  log  or  a 
sand-bar  the  jar  would  awaken  him.  The 
current  was  sluggish.  There  seemed  to  be 
no  danger  whatever.  He  must  try  to  keep 
his  strength.  A  little  sleep  would  refresh 
him.  So  he  reasoned,  and  fell  asleep  over 
the  oars. 

Sooner  or  later — he  never  knew  how  long 
after  he  had  fallen  asleep — a  little  jar  awakened 
him.  Then  the  gurgle  and  murmur  of  water 
near  him  and  the  rush  and  roar  of  a  swift 
current  farther  off  made  him  look  up  with  a 
violent  start.  All  about  him  was  wide,  gray 
gloom.  Yet  he  could  see  the  dark,  glancing 
gleam  of  the  water.  Movement  of  the  oars 
told  him  the  boat  was  fast  on  a  sand-bar. 
That  relieved  him,  for  he  was  not  drifting  at 
the  moment  into  the  swift  current  he  heard. 
Ken  peered  keenly  into  the  gloom.  Grad- 
ually he  made  out  a  long,  dark  line  running 
diagonally  ahead  of  him  and  toward  the  right- 
hand  shore.  It  could  not  be  an  island  or  a 
sand-bar  or  a  shore-line.  It  could  not  be 
piles  of  driftwood.  There  was  a  strange 
regularity  in  the  dark  upheavals  of  this  loom- 

285 


KEN    WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

ing  object.  Ken  studied  it.  He  studied  the 
black,  glancing  water.  Whatever  the  line 
was,  it  appeared  to  shunt  the  current  over  to 
the  right,  whence  came  the  low  rush  and 
roar. 

Altogether  it  was  a  wild,  strange  place. 
Ken  felt  a  fear  of  something  he  could  not  name. 
It  was  the  river — the  night — the  loneliness — 
the  unknown  about  him  and  before  him. 

Suddenly  he  saw  a  dull,  red  light  far  down 
the  river.  He  stiffened  in  his  seat.  Then 
he  saw  another  red  light.  They  were  like 
two  red  eyes.  Ken  shook  himself  to  see  if 
he  had  nightmare.  No;  the  boat  was  there; 
the  current  was  there;  the  boys  were  there, 
dark  and  silent  under  their  blankets.  This 
was  no  dream.  Ken's  fancy  conjured  up 
some  red-eyed  river  demon  come  to  destroy 
him  and  his  charges.  He  scorned  the  fancy, 
laughed  at  it.  But,  all  the  same,  in  that  dark, 
weird  place,  with  the  murmuring  of  notes 
in  his  ears  and  with  those  strange  red  eyes 
glowing  in  the  distance,  he  could  not  help 
what  his  emotions  made  the  truth.  He  was 
freezing  to  the  marrow,  writhing  in  a  clammy 
sweat  when  a  low  "chug-chug-chug"  enlight- 
ened him.  The  red  eyes  were  those  of  a 
steamboat. 

A  steamboat  on  the  wild  Panuco!  Ken 
286 


STRICKEN    DOWN 

scarcely  believed  his  own  judgment.  Then 
he  remembered  that  George  said  there  were 
a  couple  of  boats  plying  up  and  down  the 
lower  Panuco,  mostly  transporting  timber  and 
cattle.  Besides,  he  had  proof  of  his  judg- 
ment in  the  long,  dark  line  that  had  so  puzzled 
him — it  was  a  breakwater.  It  turned  the 
current  to  the  left,  where  there  evidently  was 
a  channel. 

The  great,  red  eyes  gleamed  closer,  the 
"chug-chug-chug"  sounded  louder.  Then  an- 
other sound  amazed  Ken — a  man's  voice 
crying  out  steadily  and  monotonously. 

Ken  wanted  to  rouse  the  boys  and  Pepe, 
but  he  refrained.  It  was  best  for  them  to 
sleep.  How  surprised  they  would  be  when  he 
told  them  about  the  boat  that  passed  in  the 
night!  Ken  now  clearly  heard  the  splashing 
of  paddles,  the  chug  of  machinery,  and  the 
man's  voice.  He  was  singsonging:  "Dos  y 
media,  dos  y  media,  dos  y  media." 

Ken  understood  a  little  Mexican,  and 
this  strange  cry  became  clear  to  him.  The 
man  was  taking  soundings  with  a  lead  and  cry- 
ing out  to  the  pilot.  Dos  y  media  meant  two 
and  a  half  feet  of  water.  Then  the  steam- 
boat loomed  black  in  the  gray  gloom.  It  was 
pushing  a  low,  flat  barge.  Ken  could  not 
see  the  man  taking  soundings,  but  he  heard 

287 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

him  and  knew  he  was  on  the  front  end  of  the 
barge.  The  boat  passed  at  fair  speed,  and  it 
cheered  Ken.  For  he  certainly  ought  to  be 
able  to  take  a  rowboat  where  a  steamboat 
had  passed.  And,  besides,  he  must  be  getting 
somewhere  near  the  little  village  of  Panuco. 

He  poled  off  the  bar  and  along  the  break- 
water to  the  channel .  It  was  narrow  and  swift. 
He  wondered  how  the  pilot  of  the  steamboat 
had  navigated  in  the  gloom.  He  slipped 
down-stream,  presently  to  find  himself  once 
more  in  a  wide  river.  Refreshed  by  his  sleep 
and  encouraged  by  the  meeting  with  the 
steamboat,  Ken  settled  down  to  steady 
rowing. 

The  stars  paled,  the  mist  thickened,  fog 
obscured  the  water  and  shore;  then  all  turned 
gray,  lightened,  and  dawn  broke.  The  sun 
burst  out.  Ken  saw  thatched  huts  high  on 
the  banks  and  occasionally  natives.  This 
encouraged  him  all  the  more. 

He  was  not  hungry,  but  he  was  sick  for  a 
drink.  He  had  to  fight  himself  to  keep  from 
drinking  the  dirty  river-water.  How  different 
it  was  here  from  the  clear  green  of  the  upper 
Santa  Rosa!  Ken  would  have  given  his  best 
gun  for  one  juicy  orange.  George  was  rest- 
less and  rolling  about,  calling  for  water; 
Hal  lay  in  slumber  or  stupor;  and  Pepe  sat 

388 


STRICKEN    DOWN 

up.  He  was  a  sick-looking  fellow,  but  he 
was  better;  and  that  cheered  Ken  as  nothing 
yet  had. 

Ken  beached  the  boat  on  a  sandy  shore, 
and  once  again  forced  down  a  little  rice  and 
cocoa.  Pepe  would  not  eat,  yet  he  drank  a 
little.  George  was  burning  up  with  fever, 
and  drank  a  full  cup.  Hal  did  not  stir,  and 
Ken  thought  it  best  to  let  him  lie. 

As  Ken  resumed  the  journey  the  next  thing 
to  attract  his  attention  was  a  long  canoe 
moored  below  one  of  the  thatched  huts. 
This  afforded  him  great  satisfaction.  At 
least  he  had  passed  the  jungle  wilderness, 
where  there  was  nothing  that  even  suggested 
civilization.  In  the  next  few  miles  he  noticed 
several  canoes  and  as  many  natives.  Then 
he  passed  a  canoe  that  was  paddled  by  two 
half -naked  bronze  Indians.  Pepe  hailed  them, 
but  either  they  were  too  unfriendly  to  reply 
or  they  did  not  understand  him. 

Some  distance  below  Pepe  espied  a  banana 
grove,  and  he  motioned  Ken  to  row  ashore. 
Ken  did  so  with  pleasure  at  the  thought  of 
getting  some  fresh  fruit.  There  was  a  canoe 
moored  to  the  roots  of  a  tree  and  a  path 
leading  up  the  steep  bank.  Pepe  got  out  and 
laboriously  toiled  up  the  bare  path.  He  was 
gone  a  good  while. 

289 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

Presently  Ken  heard  shouts,  then  the  bang 
of  a  lightly  loaded  gun,  then  yells  from  Pepe. 

"What  on  earth!"  cried  Ken,  looking  up  in 
affright. 

Pepe  appeared  with  his  arms  full  of  red 
bananas.  He  jumped  and  staggered  down 
the  path  and  almost  fell  into  the  boat.  But 
he  hung  on  to  the  bananas. 

"Santa  Maria!"  gasped  Pepe,  pointing  to 
little  bloody  spots  on  the  calf  of  his  leg. 

"Pepe,  you've  been  shot!"  ejaculated  Ken. 
"You  stole  the  fruit — somebody  shot  you!" 

Pepe  howled  his  affirmative.  Ken  was 
angry  at  himself,  angrier  at  Pepe,  and  angriest 
at  the  native  who  had  done  the  shooting. 
With  a  strong  shove  Ken  put  the  boat  out 
and  then  rowed  hard  down-stream.  As  he 
rounded  a  bend  a  hundred  yards  below  he  saw 
three  natives  come  tumbling  down  the  path. 
They  had  a  gun.  They  leaped  into  the  canoe. 
They  meant  pursuit. 

"Say,  but  this  is  a  pretty  kettle  of  fish!" 
muttered  Ken,  and  he  bent  to  the  oars. 

Of  course  Pepe  had  been  in  the  wrong. 
He  should  have  paid  for  the  bananas  or  asked 
for  them.  All  the  same,  Ken  was  not  in  any 
humor  to  be  fooled  with  by  excitable  natives. 
He  had  a  sick  brother  in  the  boat  and  meant 
to  get  that  lad  out  of  the  jungle  as  quickly 

290 


STRICKEN    DOWN 

as  will  and  strength  could  do  it.  He  cer- 
tainly did  not  intend  to  be  stopped  by  a  few 
miserable  Indians  angry  over  the  loss  of  a  few 
bananas.  If  it  had  not  been  for  the  gun, 
Ken  would  have  stopped  long  enough  to  pay 
for  the  fruit.  But  he  could  not  risk  it  now. 
So  he  pulled  a  strong  stroke  down-stream. 

The  worst  of  the  matter  developed  when 
Pepe  peeled  one  of  the  bananas.  It  was  too 
green  to  eat. 

Presently  the  native  canoe  hove  in  sight 
round  the  bend.  All  three  men  were  pad- 
dling. They  made  the  long  craft  fly  through 
the  water.  Ken  saw  instantly  that  they  would 
overhaul  him  in  a  long  race,  and  this  added 
to  his  resentment.  Pepe  looked  back  and 
jabbered  and  shook  his  brawny  fists  at  the 
natives.  Ken  was  glad  to  see  that  the  long 
stretch  of  river  below  did  not  show  a  canoe 
or  hut  along  the  banks.  He  preferred  to  be  over- 
hauled, if  he  had  to  be,  in  a  rather  lonely  spot. 

It  was  wonderful  how  those  natives  pro- 
pelled that  log  canoe.  And  when  one  of  the 
three  dropped  his  paddle  to  pick  up  the  gun, 
the  speed  of  the  canoe  seemed  not  to  diminish. 
They  knew  the  channels,  and  so  gained  on 
Ken.  He  had  to  pick  the  best  he  could 
choose  at  short  notice,  and  sometimes  he 
chose  poorly. 

391 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

Two  miles  or  more  below  the  bend  the 
natives  with  the  gun  deliberately  fired,  pre- 
sumably at  Pepe.  The  shot  scattered  and 
skipped  along  the  water  and  did  not  come 
near  the  boat.  Nevertheless,  as  the  canoe 
was  gaining  and  the  crazy  native  was  reload- 
ing, Ken  saw  he  would  soon  be  within  range. 
Something  had  to  be  done. 

Ken  wondered  if  he  could  not  frighten 
those  natives.  They  had  probably  never 
heard  the  quick  reports  of  a  repeating  rifle, 
let  alone  the  stinging  cracks  of  an  automatic. 
Ken  decided  it  would  be  worth  trying.  But 
he  must  have  a  chance  to  get  the  gun  out  of 
its  case  and  load  it. 

That  chance  came  presently.  The  natives, 
in  paddling  diagonally  across  a  narrow  chan- 
nel, ran  aground  in  the  sand.  They  were 
fast  for  only  a  few  moments,  but  in  that  time 
Ken  had  got  out  the  little  rifle  and  loaded  it. 

Pepe's  dark  face  turned  a  dirty  white,  and 
his  eyes  dilated.  He  imagined  Ken  was 
going  to  kill  some  of  his  countrymen.  But 
Pepe  never  murmured.  He  rubbed  the  place 
in  his  leg  where  he  had  been  shot,  and  looked 
back. 

Ken  rowed  on,  now  leisurely.  There  was 
a  hot  anger  within  him,  but  he  had  it  in  con- 
trol. He  knew  what  he  was  about.  Again 

292 


STRICKEN    DOWN 

the  native  fired,  and  again  his  range  was  short. 
The  distance  was  perhaps  two  hundred  yards. 

Ken  waited  until  the  canoe,  in  crossing 
one  of  the  many  narrow  places,  was  broad- 
side toward  him.  Then  he  raised  the  auto- 
matic. There  were  at  least  ten  feet  in  the 
middle  of  the  canoe  where  it  was  safe  for  him 
to  hit  without  harm  to  the  natives.  And 
there  he  aimed.  The  motion  of  his  boat  made 
it  rather  hard  to  keep  the  sights  right.  He  was 
cool,  careful;  he  aimed  low,  between  gunwale 
and  the  water,  and  steadily  he  pulled  the 
trigger — once,  twice,  three  times,  four,  five. 

The  steel- jacketed  bullets  "spoued"  on 
the  water  and  "cracked"  into  the  canoe. 
They  evidently  split  both  gunwales  low  down 
at  the  water-line.  The  yelling,  terror-strick- 
en natives  plunged  about,  and  what  with 
their  actions  and  the  great  split  in  the  middle 
the  canoe  filled  and  sank.  The  natives  were 
not  over  their  depth ;  that  was  plainly  evident. 
Moreover,  it  was  equally  evident  that  they 
dared  not  wade  in  the  quicksand.  So  they 
swam  to  the  shallower  water,  and  there,  like 
huge  turtles,  floundered  toward  the  shore. 


XXIII 

OUT  OF  THE  JUNGLE 

DEFORE  the  natives  had  reached  the 
J— '  shore  they  were  hidden  from  Ken's 
sight  by  leaning  cypress  -  trees.  Ken,  how- 
ever, had  no  fear  for  their  safety.  He  was 
sorry  to  cause  the  Indians'  loss  of  a  gun  and 
a  canoe;  nevertheless,  he  was  not  far  from 
echoing  Pepe's  repeated:  "Bueno!  Bueno! 
Bueno!" 

Upon  examination  Ken  found  two  little 
bloody  holes  in  the  muscles  of  Pepe's  leg. 
A  single  shot  had  passed  through.  Ken 
bathed  the  wounds  with  an  antiseptic  lotion 
and  bound  them  with  clean  bandages. 

Pepe  appeared  to  be  pretty  weak,  so  Ken 
did  not  ask  him  to  take  the  oars.  Then, 
pulling  with  long,  steady  stroke,  Ken  set  out 
to  put  a  long  stretch  between  him  and  the 
angry  natives.  The  current  was  swift,  and 
Ken  made  five  miles  or  more  an  hour.  He 
kept  that  pace  for  three  hours  without  a  rest. 
And  then  he  gave  out.  It  seemed  that  all  at 

294 


OUT  OF   THE   JUNGLE 

once  he  weakened.  His  back  bore  an  im- 
mense burden.  His  arms  were  lead,  and  his 
hands  were  useless.  There  was  an  occasional 
mist  or  veil  before  his  sight.  He  was  wet, 
hot,  breathless,  numb.  But  he  knew  he  was 
safe  from  pursuit.  So  he  rested  and  let  the 
boat  drift. 

George  sat  up,  green  in  the  face,  a  most 
miserable-looking  boy.  But  that  he  could 
sit  up  at  all  was  hopeful. 

"Oh,  my  head!"  he  moaned.  "Is  there 
anything  I  can  drink?  My  mouth  is  dry — • 
pasted  shut." 

Ken  had  two  lemons  he  had  been  saving. 
He  cut  one  in  halves  and  divided  it  between 
Pepe  and  George.  The  relief  the  sour  lemon 
afforded  both  showed  Ken  how  wise  he  had 
been  to  save  the  lemons.  Then  he  roused 
Hal,  and,  lifting  the  lad's  head,  made  him 
drink  a  little  of  the  juice.  Hal  was  a  sick 
boy,  too  weak  to  sit  up  without  help. 

' '  Don't — you  worry — Ken, ' '  he  said.  ' '  I'm 
going — to  be — all  right." 

Hal  was  still  fighting. 

Ken  readjusted  the  palm-leaf  shelter  over 
the  boys  so  as  to  shade  them  effectually  from 
the  hot  sun,  and  then  he  went  back  to  the 
oars. 

As  he  tried  once  more  to  row,  Ken  was  re- 
20  295 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

minded  of  the  terrible  lassitude  that  had  over- 
taken him  the  day  he  had  made  the  six -hour 
climb  out  of  the  Grand  Canon.  The  sensa- 
tion now  was  worse,  but  Ken  had  others  de- 
pending upon  his  exertions,  and  that  spurred 
him  to  the  effort  which  otherwise  would  have 
been  impossible. 

It  was  really  not  rowing  that  Ken  accom- 
plished. It  was  a  weary  puttering  with  oars 
he  could  not  lift,  handles  he  could  not  hold. 
At  best  he  managed  to  guide  the  boat  into 
the  swiftest  channels.  Whenever  he  felt  that 
he  was  just  about  to  collapse,  then  he  would 
look  at  Hal's  pale  face.  That  would  revive 
him.  So  the  hot  hours  dragged  by. 

They  came,  after  several  miles,  upon  more 
huts  and  natives.  And  farther  down  they 
met  canoes  on  the  river.  Pepe  interrogated 
the  natives.  According  to  George,  who  lis- 
tened, Panuco  was  far,  far  away,  many  kilo- 
meters. This  was  most  disheartening.  Another 
native  said  the  village  was  just  round  the 
next  bend.  This  was  most  happy  informa- 
tion. But  it  turned  out  to  be  a  lie.  There 
was  no  village  around  any  particular  bend 
—nothing  save  bare  banks  for  miles.  The 
stretches  of  the  river  were  long,  and  bends 
far  apart. 

Ken  fell  asleep.  When  he  awoke  he  found 
296 


OUT   OF   THE   JUNGLE 

Pepe  at  the  oars.  Watching  him,  Ken  fancied 
he  was  recovering,  and  was  overjoyed. 

About  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  Pepe 
rowed  ashore  and  beached  the  boat  at  the 
foot  of  a  trail  leading  up  to  a  large  bamboo 
and  thatch  hut.  This  time  Ken  thought  it 
well  to  accompany  Pepe.  And  as  he  climbed 
the  path  he  found  his  legs  stiffer  and  shakier 
than  ever  before. 

Ken  saw  a  cleared  space  in  which  were  sev- 
eral commodious  huts,  gardens,  and  flowers. 
There  was  a  grassy  yard  in  which  little  naked 
children  were  playing  with  tame  deer  and 
tiger-cats.  Parrots  were  screeching,  and  other 
tame  birds  fluttered  about.  It  appeared  a  real 
paradise  to  Ken. 

Two  very  kindly  disposed  and  wondering 
native  women  made  them  welcome.  Then 
Ken  and  Pepe  went  down  to  the  boat  and 
carried  Hal  up,  and  went  back  for  George. 

It  developed  that  the  native  women  knew 
just  what  to  do  for  the  fever-stricken  boys. 
They  made  some  kind  of  a  native  drink  for 
them,  and  after  that  gave  them  hot  milk  and 
chicken  and  rice  soup.  George  improved 
rapidly,  and  Hal  brightened  a  little  and  showed 
signs  of  gathering  strength. 

Ken  could  not  eat  until  he  had  something 
to  quench  his  thirst.  Upon  inquiring,  Pepe 

297 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

found  that  the  natives  used  the  river-water. 
Ken  could  not  drink  that.  Then  Pepe  pointed 
out  an  orange-tree,  and  Ken  made  a  dive 
for  it.  The  ground  was  littered  with  oranges. 
Collecting  an  armful,  Ken  sat  under  the  tree 
and  with  wild  haste  began  to  squeeze  the  juice 
into  his  mouth.  Never  had  anything  before 
tasted  so  cool,  so  sweet,  so  life-giving!  He 
felt  a  cool,  wet  sensation  steal  all  through  his 
body.  He  never  knew  till  that  moment  how 
really  wonderful  and  precious  an  orange  could 
be.  He  thought  that  as  he  would  hate 
mourning  turtle-doves  all  the  rest  of  his  life, 
so  he  would  love  the  sight  and  smell  and  taste 
of  oranges.  And  he  demolished  twenty-two 
before  he  satisfied  his  almost  insatiable  thirst. 
After  that  the  chicken  and  rice  made  him  feel 
like  a  new  boy. 

Then  Ken  made  beds  under  a  kind  of  porch, 
and  he  lay  down  in  one,  stretched  out  lan- 
guidly and  gratefully,  as  if  he  never  intended 
to  move  again,  and  his  eyes  seemed  to  be 
glued  shut. 

When  he  awoke  the  sun  was  shining  in  his 
face.  When  he  had  gone  to  bed  it  had  been 
shining  at  his  back.  He  consulted  his  watch. 
He  had  slept  seventeen  hours. 

When  he  got  up  and  found  Pepe  as  well  as 
before  he  had  been  taken  with  the  fever  and 

298 


OUT   OF   THE   JUNGLE 

George  on  his  feet  and  Hal  awake  and  ac- 
tually smiling,  Ken  experienced  a  sensation 
of  unutterable  thankfulness.  A  terrible  bur- 
den slipped  from  his  shoulders.  For  a  mo- 
ment he  felt  a  dimming  of  his  eyes  and  a  lump 
in  his  throat. 

"How  about  you,  Ken,  old  man?"  inquired 
Hal,  with  a  hint  of  his  usual  spirit. 

"Wai,  youngster,  I  reckon  fer  a  man  who's 
been  through  some  right  pert  happenin's, 
I'm  in  tol'able  shape,"  drawled  Ken. 

"I'll  bet  two  dollars  you've  been  up 
against  it,"  declared  Hal,  solemnly. 

Then,  as  they  sat  to  an  appetizing  break- 
fast, Ken  gave  them  a  brief  account  of  the 
incidents  of  the  two  days  and  two  nights 
when  they  were  too  ill  to  know  anything. 

It  was  a  question  whether  George's  voluble 
eulogy  of  Ken's  feat  or  Hal's  silent,  bright- 
eyed  pride  in  his  brother  was  the  greater 
compliment. 

Finally  Hal  said:  "Won't  that  tickle  Jim 
Williams  when  we  tell  him  how  you  split 
up  the  Indians'  canoe  and  spilled  them  into 
the  river?" 

Then  Ken  conceived  the  idea  of  climbing 
into  the  giant  ceiba  that  stood  high  on  the 
edge  of  the  bluff.  It  was  hard  work,  but  he 
accomplished  it,  and  from  a  fork  in  the  top- 

299 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

most  branches  he  looked  out.  That  was  a 
warm,  rich,  wonderful  scene.  Ken  felt  that 
he  would  never  forget  it.  His  interest  nowr 
however,  was  not  so  much  in  its  beauty  and 
wildness.  His  keen  eye  followed  the  river 
as  it  wound  away  into  the  jungle,  and  when 
he  could  no  longer  see  the  bright  ribbon  of 
water  he  followed  its  course  by  the  line  of 
magnificent  trees.  It  was  possible  to  trace 
the  meandering  course  of  the  river  clear  to 
the  rise  of  the  mountains,  dim  and  blue  in 
the  distance.  And  from  here  Ken  made  more 
observations  and  notes. 

As  he  went  over  in  his  mind  the  map  and 
notes  and  report  he  had  prepared  he  felt  that 
he  had  made  good.  He  had  explored  and 
mapped  more  than  a  hundred  miles  of  wild 
jungle  river.  He  felt  confident  that  he  had 
earned  the  trip  to  England  and  the  German 
forests.  He  might  win  a  hunting  trip  on  the 
vast  uplands  of  British  East  Africa.  But  he 
felt  also  that  the  reward  of  his  uncle's  and 
his  father's  pride  would  be  more  to  him.  That 
was  a  great  moment  for  Ken  Ward.  And 
there  was  yet  much  more  that  he  could  do  to 
make  this  exploring  trip  a  success. 

When  he  joined  the  others  he  found  that 
Pepe  had  learned  that  the  village  of  Panuco 
was  distant  a  day  or  a  night  by  canoe.  How 

300 


I- 


OUT   OF   THE   JUNGLE 

many  miles  or  kilometers  Pepe  could  not  learn. 
Ken  decided  it  would  be  best  to  go  on  at  once. 
It  was  not  easy  to  leave  that  pleasant  place, 
with  its  music  of  parrots  and  other  birds,  and 
the  tiger-cats  that  played  like  kittens,  and  the 
deer  that  ate  from  the  hand.  The  women 
would  accept  no  pay,  so  Ken  made  them 
presents. 

Once  more  embarked,  Ken  found  his  mood 
reverting  to  that  of  the  last  forty-eight  hours. 
He  could  not  keep  cheerful.  The  river  was 
dirty  and  the  smell  sickening.  The  sun  was 
like  the  open  door  of  a  furnace.  And  Ken 
soon  discovered  he  was  tired,  utterly  tired. 

That  day  was  a  repetition  of  the  one  before, 
hotter,  wearier,  and  the  stretches  of  river  were 
longer,  and  the  natives  met  in  canoes  were 
stolidly  ignorant  of  distance.  The  mourning 
of  turtle-doves  almost  drove  Ken  wild.  There 
were  miles  and  miles  of  willows,  and  every  tree 
was  full  of  melancholy  doves.  At  dusk  the 
boys  halted  on  a  sand-bar,  too  tired  to  cook  a 
dinner,  and  sprawled  in  the  warm  sand  to  sleep 
like  logs. 

In  the  morning  they  brightened  up  a  little, 
for  surely  just  around  the  bend  they  would 
come  to  Panuco.  Pepe  rowed  faithfully  on, 
and  bend  after  bend  lured  Ken  with  deceit. 
He  was  filled  with  weariness  and  disgust,  so 

303 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

tired  he  could  hardly  lift  his  hand,  so  sleepy 
he  could  scarcely  keep  his  eyes  open.  He 
hated  the  wide,  glassy  stretches  of  river  and 
the  muddy  banks  and  dusty  cattle. 

At  noon  they  came  unexpectedly  upon  a 
cluster  of  thatched  huts,  to  find  that  they  made 
up  the  village  of  Panuco.  Ken  was  sick,  for  he 
had  expected  a  little  town  where  they  could 
get  some  drinking-water  and  hire  a  launch 
to  speed  them  down  to  Tampico.  This  ap- 
peared little  more  than  the  other  places  he 
had  passed,  and  he  climbed  up  the  bank 
wearily,  thinking  of  the  long  fifty  miles  still 
to  go. 

But  Panuco  was  bigger  and  better  than  it 
looked  from  the  river.  The  boys  found  a 
clean,  comfortable  inn,  where  they  dined  well, 
and  learned  to  their  joy  that  a  coach  left  in 
an  hour  for  Tamos  to  meet  the  five-o'clock 
train  to  Tampico. 

They  hired  a  mozo  to  row  the  boat  to 
Tampico  and,  carrying  the  lighter  things, 
boarded  the  coach,  and,  behind  six  mules, 
were  soon  bowling  over  a  good  level  road. 

It  was  here  that  the  spirit  of  Ken's  mood 
again  changed,  and  somehow  seemed  subtly 
conveyed  to  the  others.  The  gloom  faded 
away  as  Ken  had  seen  the  mist-clouds  dis- 
solve in  the  morning  sunlight.  It  was  the 

304 


OUT  OF   THE   JUNGLE 

end  of  another  wild  trip.  Hal  was  ill,  but 
a  rest  and  proper  care  would  soon  bring  him 
around.  Ken  had  some  trophies  and  pictures, 
but  he  also  had  memories.  And  he  believed 
he  had  acquired  an  accurate  knowledge  of 
the  jungle  and  its  wild  nature,  and  he  had 
mapped  the  river  from  Micas  Falls  to  Panuco. 

"Well,  it  certainly  did  come  to  us,  didn't 
it?"  asked  George,  naively,  for  the  hundredth 
time.  "Didn't  I  tell  you?  By  gosh,  I  can't 
remember  what  did  come  off.  But  we  had 
a  dandy  time." 

"Great!"  replied  Ken.  "I  had  more  than 
I  wanted.  I'll  never  spring  another  stunt  like 
this  one!" 

Hal  gazed  smilingly  at  his  brother. 

"Bah!  Ken  Ward,  bring  on  your  next  old 
trip!" 

Which  proved  decidedly  that  Hal  was  get- 
ting better  and  that  he  alone  understood  his 
brother. 

Pepe  listened  and  rubbed  his  big  hands, 
and  there  was  a  light  in  his  dark  eyes. 

Ken  laughed.  It  was  good  to  feel  happy 
just  then;  it  was  enough  to  feel  safe  and  glad 
in  the  present,  with  responsibility  removed, 
without  a  thought  of  the  future. 

Yet,  when  some  miles  across  country  he  saw 
the  little  town  of  Tamos  shining  red-roofed 

305 


KEN   WARD    IN   THE   JUNGLE 

against  the  sky,  he  came  into  his  own  again. 
The  old  calling,  haunting  love  of  wild  places 
and  wild  nature  returned,  and  with  dreamy 
eyes  he  looked  out.  He  saw  the  same  beauty 
and  life  and  wildness.  Beyond  the  glimmer- 
ing lagoons  stretched  the  dim,  dark  jungle. 
A  flock  of  flamingoes  showed  pink  across  the 
water.  Ducks  dotted  the  weedy  marshes. 
And  low  down  on  the  rosy  horizon  a  long 
curved  line  of  wild  geese  sailed  into  the 
sunset. 

When  the  boys  arrived  at  Tampico  and 
George  had  secured  comfortable  lodgings  for 
them,  the  first  thing  Ken  did  was  to  put  Hal 
to  bed.  It  required  main  strength  to  do  this. 
Ken  was  not  taking  any  chances  with  tropical 
fever,  and  he  sent  for  a  doctor. 

It  was  not  clear  whether  the  faces  Hal 
made  were  at  the  little  dried-up  doctor  or  at 
the  medicine  he  administered.  However,  it 
was  very  clear  that  Hal  made  fun  of  him 
and  grew  bolder  the  more  he  believed  the  man 
could  not  understand  English. 

Ken  liked  the  silent,  kindly  physician,  and 
remonstrated  with  Hal,  and  often,  just  to 
keep  Hal's  mind  occupied,  he  would  talk  of 
the  university  and  baseball,  topics  that  were 
absorbing  to  the  boy. 

And  one  day,  as  the  doctor  was  leaving, 
306 


OUT   OF   THE   JUNGLE 

he  turned  to  Ken  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eyes 
and  said  in  perfect  English:  "I  won't  need  to 
come  any  more." 

Hal's  jaw  began  to  drop. 

"Your  brother  is  all  right,"  went  on  the 
doctor.  "But  he's  a  fresh  kid,  and  he'll 
never  make  the  Wayne  Varsity — or  a  good 
explorer,  either — till  he  gets  over  that  fresh- 
ness. I'm  a  Wayne  man  myself.  Class  of  '82. 
Good  day,  boys." 

Ken  Ward  was  astounded.  "By  George! 
What  do  you  think  of  that?  He's  a  Wayne 
med.  I'll  have  to  look  him  up.  And,  Hal,  he 
was  just  right  about  you." 

Hal  looked  extremely  crestfallen  and  re- 
morseful. 

"I'm  always  getting  jars." 

It  took  a  whole  day  for  him  to  recover  his 
usual  spirits. 

Ken  had  promptly  sent  the  specimens  and 
his  notes  to  his  uncle,  and  as  the  days  passed 
the  boys  began  to  look  anxiously  for  some 
news.  In  ten  days  Hal  was  as  well  as  ever, 
and  then  the  boys  had  such  sport  with  the 
tarpon  and  big  sharks  and  alligator-gars  that 
they  almost  forgot  about  the  rewards  they  had 
striven  so  hard  for  and  hoped  to  win.  But 
finally,  when  the  mail  arrived  from  home, 
they  were  at  once  happy  and  fearful.  George 

307 


KEN   WARD   IN   THE   JUNGLE 

was  with  them  that  evening,  and  shared  their 
excitement  and  suspense.  Hal's  letters  were 
from  his  mother  and  his  sister,  and  they  were 
read  first.  Judge  Ward's  letter  to  Ken  was 
fatherly  and  solicitous,  but  brief.  He  gave 
the  boys  six  more  weeks,  cautioned  them  to  be 
sensible  and  to  profit  by  their  opportunity, 
and  he  inclosed  a  bank-draft.  Not  a  word 
about  rewards! 

Ken's  fingers  trembled  a  little  as  he  tore 
open  the  uncle's  letter.  He  read  it  aloud : 

DEAR  KEN, — Congratulations!  You've  done  well. 
You  win  the  trip  to  Africa.  Hal's  work  also  was 
good — several  specimens  accepted  by  the  Smithsonian. 
I'll  back  you  for  the  Yucatan  trip.  Will  send  letters 
to  the  American  consul  at  Progreso,  and  arrange  for 
you  to  meet  the  Austrian  archaeologist  Maler,  who  I 
hope  will  take  you  in  hand. 

I  want  you  to  make  a  study  of  some  of  the  ruins 
of  Yucatan,  which  I  believe  are  as  wonderful  as  any 
in  Egypt.  I  advise  you  to  make  this  trip  short  and  to 
the  point,  for  there  are  indications  of  coming  revolu- 
tion throughout  Mexico. 

With  best  wishes, 

UNCLE  G. 

The  old  varsity  cheer  rang  out  from  Ken, 
and  Hal  began  a  war-dance.  Then  both  boys 
pounced  upon  George,  and  for  a  few  moments 
made  life  miserable  for  him. 

308 


OUT  OF   THE   JUNGLE 

"And  I  can't  go  with  you!"  he  exclaimed, 
sorrowfully. 

Both  Ken  and  Hal  shared  his  disappoint- 
ment. But  presently  George  brightened  up. 
The  smile  came  back  which  he  always  wore 
when  prophesying  the  uncertain  adventures  of 
the  future. 

"Well,  anyway,  I'll  be  safe  home.  And  you 
.fellows!  You'll  be  getting  yours  when  you're 
lost  in  the  wilderness  of  Yucatan!" 


THE  END 


There  s  More  to  Follow! 

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THE  MAN  OF  THE  FOREST 

—  • 

THE  DESERT  OF  WHEAT  j 

THE  U.  P.  TRAIL 

WILDFIRE 

THE  BORDER  LEGION^ 

THE  RAINBOW  TRAIL 

THE  HERITAGE  OF  THE  DESERT? 

RIDERS  OF  THE  PURPLE  SAGE 

THE  LIGHT  OF  WESTERN  STARS 


THE  LONE  STAR  RANGER 
DESERT  GOLD 
BETTY  ZANE 

•*••••• 
LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS 

The  life  story  of  "Buffalo  Bill"  by  his  sister  Helen  Cody 
Wetmore,  with  Foreword  and  conclusion  by  Zane  Grey. 

ZANE  GREY'S  BOOKS  FOR  BOYS 

KEN  WARD  IN  THE  JUNGLE 
THE  YOUNG  LION  HUNTER 
THE  YOUNG  FORESTER. 
THE  YOUNG  PITCHER 
THE  SHORT  STOP 

THE  RED-HEADED  OUTFIELD  AND  OTHER 
BASEBALL  STORIES 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,        PUBLISHERS,        NEW  Yot;K 


JAMES  OLIVER  CURWOOD'S 

_  STORIES  OF  ADVENTURE  _  _ 

May  be  had  whtram  boofci  are  sold.      Ask  for  Grossat  A  Dunlap't  list 

THE  RIVER'S  END  " 

A  story  of  the  Royal  Mounted  Police. 
THE  GOLDEN  SNARE 

Thrilling  adventures  in  the  Par  Northland." 
NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

The  story  of  a  bear-cub  and  a  dog. 
KAZAN 

The  tale  of  a  "quarter-strain  wolf  and  three-quarters  husky"  torn 
between  the  call  of  the  human  and  his  wild  mate. 

BAREE,  SON  OF  KAZAN 

The  story  of  the  son  of  the  blind  Grey  Wolf  and  the  gallant  part 
he  played  in  the  lives  of  a  man  and  a  woman. 

THE  COURAGE  OF  CAPTAIN  PLUM 

The  story  of  the  King  of  Beaver  Island,  a  Mormon  colony,  and  his 
battle  with  Captain  Plum. 

THE  DANGER  TRAIL 


A  tale  of  love,  Indian  vengeance,  and  a  mystery  of  the  North. 
THE  HUNTED  WOMAN 

A  tale  of  a  great  fight  in  the  "  valley  of  gold  "  for  a  woman. 
THE  FLOWER  OF  THE  NORTH 

The  story  of  Fort  o'  God,  where  the  wild  flavor  of  the  wilderness 
is  blended  with  the  courtly  atmosphere  of  France. 

THE  GRIZZLY  KING 

The  story  of  Thor,  the  big  grizzly. 
1SOBEL 

A  love  story  of  the  Par  North. 
THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

A  thrilling  tale  of  adventure  in  the  Canadian  wilderness; 
THE  GOLD  HUNTERS 

The  story  of  adventur*  in  the  Hudson  Bay  wilds. 
THE  COURAGE  OF  MARGE  O'DOONE 

Filled  with  exciting  incidents  in  the  land  of  strong  men  and  women. 
BACK  TO  GOD'S  COUNTRY 

A  thrilling  story  of  the  Far  North.  The  great  Photoplay  was  made 
from  this  book. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,        PUBLISHERS,        NEW  YORK 


B.  M.  BOWER'S  NOVELS 

•toy  be  had  wherem  boota  tin  told.     JUk  for  Crotset  ind  Dtrolap's  list 

CHIP  OF  THE  FLYING  U.  Wherein  the  love  affairs  of  Chip  and 
Delia  Whitman  are  charmingly  and  humorously  told. 

THE  HAPPY  FAMILY.  A  lively  and  amusing  story,  dealing  with 
the  adventures  of  eighteen  jovial,  big  hearted  Montana  cowboys. 

HER  PRAIRIE  KNIGHT.  Describing  a  gay  party  of  Easterners 
who  exchange  a  cottage  at  Newport  for  a  Montana  ranch-house. 

THE  RANGE  DWELLERS.  Spirited  action,  a  range  feud  be* 
two  families,  and  a  Romeo  and  Juliet  courtship  make  this  a  bright; 
jolly  story. 

;THE  LURE  OF  THE  DIM  TRAILS.  A  vivid  portrayal  of  the 
experience  of  an  Eastern  author  among  the  cowboys. 

,THE  LONESOME  TRAIL.  A  little  branch  of  sage  brush  and  the 
recollection  of  a  pair  of  large  brown  eyes  upset  "Weary"  David- 
eon's  plans. 

[THE  LONG  SHADOW.  A  vigorous  Western  story,  sparkling  with 
the  free  outdoor  life  of  a  mountain  ranch.  It  is  a  fine  love  story. 

GOOD  INDIAN.     A  stirring  romance  of  life  on  an  Idaho  ranch. 

FLYING  U  RANCH.     Another  delightful  story  about  Chip  and 

his  pals. 
THE  FLYING  ITS  LAST  STAND.     An  amusing  account  of  Chip 

and  the  other  boys  opposing  a  party  of  school  teachers. 
THE  UPHILL  CLIMB.     A  story  of  a  mountain  ranch  and  of  a 

man's  hard  fight  on  the  uphill  road  to  manliness. 
THE  PHANTOM  HERD.     The  title  of  a  moving-picture  staged  in 
L  New  Mexico  by  the  "Flying  U  "  boys. 
THE  HERITAGE  OF  THE  SIOUX.     The  "  Flying  U  "  boys  stage 

a  fake  bank  robbery  for  film  purposes  which  precedes  a  real  one 

for  lust  of  gold. 
THE  GRINGOS.     A  story  of  love  and  adventure  on  a  ranch  So 

California. 
STARR  OF  THE  DESERT.     A  New  Mexico  ranch  story  of  mys- 

tery  and  adventure. 
THE  LOOKOUT  MAN.     A  Northern  California  story  full  of  action; 

excitement  and  love. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,        PUBLISHERS,        NEW  YORK 


PETER_B.  KYNE'SJsTOVELS 

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THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

When  two  strong  men  clash  and  the  under-dog  has  Irish 
blood  in  his  veins — there's  a  tale  that  Kyne  can  tell!  And 
"  the  girl "  is  also  very  much  in  evidence. 

KINDRED  OF  THE  DUST 

Donald  McKay,  son  of  Hector  McKay,  millionaire  lum- 
ber king,  falls  in  love  with  "  Nan  of  the  Sawdust  Pile,"  a 
charming  girl  who  has  been  ostracized  by  her  townsfolk. 

THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

The  fight  of  the  Cardigans,  father  and  son,  to  hold  the 
Valley  of  the  Giants  against  treachery.  The  reader  finishes 
with  a  sense  of  having  lived  with  big  men  and  women  in  a 
big  country. 

GAPPY  RICKS 

The  story  of  old  Cappy  Ricks  and  of  Matt  Peasley,  the 
boy  he  tried  to  break  because  he  knew  the  acid  test  was' 
good  for  his  soul. 

WEBSTER:   MAN'S  MAN 

In  a  little  Jim  Crow  Republic  in  Central  America,  a  man 
and  a  woman,  hailing  from  the  "  States,"  met  up  with  a 
revolution  and  for  a  while  adventures  and  excitement  came 
so  thick  and  fast  that  their  love  affair  had  to  wait  for  a  lull 
in  the  game. 

CAPTAIN  SCRAGGS 

This  sea  yarn  recounts  the  adventures  of  three  rapscal- 
lion sea-faring  men — a  Captain  Scraggs,  owner  of  the  green 
vegetable  freighter  Maggie,  Gibney  the  mate  and  McGuff- 
ney  the  engineer. 

THE  LONG  CHANCE 

A  story  fresh  from  the  heart  of  the  West,  of  San  Pasqual, 
a  sun-baked  desert  town,  of  Harley  P.  Hennage,  the  best 
gambler,  the  best  and  worst  man  of  San  Pasqual  and  of 
lovely  Donna. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,         PUBLISHERS,         NEW  YORK 


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